


Break the Ice

by JessicaEBoswell



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Mentions of verbal abuse, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-27 16:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10034657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaEBoswell/pseuds/JessicaEBoswell
Summary: Victor has settled into a contented life with his fiance, he has love and his skating career, but when his brother unexpectedly returns after four years of silence, he is forced back into his past and faced with the demons of his youth.





	1. Unexpected Visitors

**Chapter 1: Unexpected Visitors**

The crowd cheered, the clamour shaking the foundations of the rink and lifting the spirits of everyone around. The skaters made their victory laps and waved to the spectators, eliciting even more of a response when they acknowledged their supporters. It was a roar, a cry of devotion from the fans who were lucky enough to see their idols skate, reaching out to express their pride in them.

For Yuri, it was a terrifying sound, so loud and so insistent, and yet he craved it; he craved the sound of applause, the sound of him having done something right. Every cheer he got, every smile and well wish aimed his way, reminded him that someone out there liked his performance, someone drew joy from it, and that was all he needed to keep going.

He breathed deep and took his final bow before skating towards the barriers, straight into the arms of his coach and fiancé, the gold medal around his neck glimmering in the bright lights of the arena and another Cup of China win under his belt.

“You did so well,” Victor enthused, picking him up and spinning him around in elation. “I’m so proud of you, Yuri. But you could do with some work on a few of those jumps.”

Yuri buried his face in the crook of Victor’s neck and smiled against his cold skin, loosening his embrace as he was gently placed back down on the ground. “Can’t I just enjoy this moment a little while longer before you start criticising me?” he chuckled.

“But as your coach, it is my job.”

“And as my fiancé?” Yuri whispered, brushing the tip of his nose against Victor’s. He could feel the warmth grow in his cheeks as a pink tinge glowed on his skin, his heart skipping a beat when his lover raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“Well, as your fiancé, I would like to tell you that you were incredible,” Victor replied, lowering his voice and ensuring that only Yuri, and Yuri alone, could hear his words. “That I couldn’t be more proud of you if I tried, and that I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

“That good, huh?” A breath hitched in Yuri’s throat and his heart hammered so loudly that he could hear it ringing in his ears. It made him wonder if Victor was aware of the effect that he had on him, or whether he did it just to tease him.

The taller man nodded and gave a melodic chuckle, putting his arm around Yuri’s waist as he led him towards the rabble of press, eager to interview them after such a triumphant victory, but as opened his mouth to speak, to mutter a few words of reassurance to his student before they faced the flash of the cameras and the influx of questions, a beeping in his pocket stole his words. He retrieved his phone with one hand and scanned the message on the screen, expecting it to be Chris or Yurio, but as his eyes skimmed the name of the sender, his heart sank, the pit of his stomach churning and a lump rising in his throat.

Yuri was quick to notice the almost instantaneous change in his demeanour, his smile slipping from his lips and his light eyes losing their usual sparkle. “Victor?” He didn’t seem to hear him, too engrossed by the text message to hear anything. “Victor? Are you all right?”

Victor snapped out of his trance and instantly turned his attention to Yuri, slipping his phone back into his pocket and ridding himself of the hateful words. He refused to be dragged back into the past so easily. “I’m sorry, my love,” he said, offering the younger man a sweet smile. “What were you saying?”

“Is everything all right?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the sudden slip of composure and the tightened grasp on his waist.

“Of course,” Victor replied, the over-exaggerated chirp in his voice making Yuri even more suspicious. “Everything is fine.” He turned his attention to the group of journalists and cameramen up ahead, and stood up to his full height. “Now, come on, my champion. We can’t keep the press waiting.”

 

* * *

 

“Congratulations, Yuri!” the Katsuki family cheered, raising their glasses before they took a sip of the sweet red alcohol within. The restaurant was almost full to bursting, the competition having brought a lot of people together, but the Katsuki family entourage had been granted the best table in the house, the staff more than happy to wait on them and grant them whatever they wished after Yuri’s victory.

“I’m so proud of you, my son,” Hiroko said, a bright grin spreading across her lips. “You have done so well.”

“Yeah, nice win, little brother,” Mira chuckled, ruffling his hair and laughing when he tried to swat her hand away.

Toshiya stood and held his glass up in a toast, the others around the restaurant table falling silent and turning their eyes to him as he rose from his seat.

Yuri instantly saw what his father was trying to do and waved for him to sit down, an embarrassed flush washing across his cheeks as the eyes of the room were diverted to the older Katsuki. “Dad, you don’t need to-” he whispered, but his father was intent on giving him his well-wishes, and all Yuri could do was cover his face to hide the deepening blush spreading across his face.

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we are all proud of both Yuri and Victor,” Toshiya said, unable to stop his beam from growing at the sight of his son so happy and so cared for, and with someone he truly loved. “You both shine so bright, make us all so happy and proud, and I hope that you will continue to do so for many years to come.” He held his glass a little higher and regarded the other occupants around the table. “So, will you all join me in toasting our very own Yuri Katsuki, and the wonderful Victor Nikiforov. May you both continue to succeed, continue to shine, and spend a long, happy life together. To Yuri and Victor.”

“To Yuri and Victor,” the family agreed, raising their glasses again and sipping at their drinks, Yuri taking a slightly bigger sip than everybody else.

His cheeks hurt from the permanent smile that he’d been wearing since winning the Cup of China and his legs ached from the strain, but it reminded him just how lucky he was; he has a support system that some would sacrifice limbs for, a family and friends who loved him for who he was, and it was in tender moments like this that he was reminded of it the most. No matter how much his anxiety gnawed at his mind, no matter how much it teased him and told him that he was no good, it couldn’t take away his loved ones and the encouragement and support they gave him.

He’d been so caught up in the moment that at the sound of his phone vibrating against the table he almost jumped out of his skin, regaining his composure and opening the message once his hands had stopped shaking. “Yurio has given me his congratulations,” he said, turning the phone towards Victor. “And he’s also reminded me that he will be defending his twice-earned title at the Grand Prix.”

“He never could send a message without reminding us of that,” Victor laughed softly, sitting back in his seat with a contented sigh.

Yuri shrugged and placed his phone back down on the table. “I don’t mind it,” he admitted. “He works just as hard as everyone else so I suppose he’s earned the right to boast about it every now and again.”

Victor fixed his eyes on him, his gaze ghosting the gentle smile, the big brown eyes, and the expression of pure adoration on his adorable features that never failed to capture his heart; every time he looked at him he fell in love all over again, that contented feeling of belonging and happiness wrapping itself around him and keeping him safe and warm.

A quick beep from his phone drew his attention away from his fiancé, and upon inspecting the screen, he got the sinking feeling in his stomach again. He breathed out slowly and kept himself composed, gritting his teeth to stop himself from letting the feeling of doubt overwhelm him as he took in the name of the caller. “Excuse me,” he whispered, getting out of his seat. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Before Yuri could respond, he hastily made his way towards the veranda at the back of the restaurant, the sweet-smelling air hitting him the moment he stepped outside and soothing his worried mind.

Yuri watched him as he passed through the double doors and hoped that it wasn’t anything too bad, but by the look on Victor’s face as he leant back against the railing and answered his phone, it wasn’t anything positive. Whatever it was he would help him through it, there was no doubt about that, but he couldn’t help but wonder just what it was that had caused the crease in his brow and the saddened look in his eyes.

 

* * *

 

The heaters on the wall rattled as they cooled, the warm air enough to sustain the room throughout the night and beyond into the early hours of the morning, but for Yuri, lying in the safe, comforting embrace of the man he loved, he didn’t notice the clanks and protests of the old, worn-out heating system. Instead he focused on the slow rise and fall of Victor’s chest and the gentle caresses of his fingertips as he ran them up and down his bare arm. But there was something in his demeanour, something about the way that his eyes would wander slowly around the room that ignited the concern in Yuri’s mind. “What’s the matter?” he asked softly, reaching up to skim his fingers over Victor’s cheek as he turned his gaze to the silver-haired man.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, taking Yuri’s hand in his and kissing each of his fingers in turn. “Just family stuff.”

Yuri shifted, propping himself up on his elbow so that he could give him his undivided attention, and watched as the older man bit his lip in thought before exhaling heavily. 

“My father wishes to speak with me again,” he explained, not wanting to keep any secrets from him; if they were to be married, if they were to be joined in such a precious way, it was only right that he knew absolutely everything about his life, the good and the bad. “Well, actually, he wants to scream at me again, but I can handle it. I’ve got it all under control.”

“Scream at you?” Yuri breathed, narrowing his eyebrows; Victor had said very little about his family in the past, barely speaking about them unless he felt inclined to and swiftly changing the subject afterwards, and it was in that moment that he began to realise why. Not everyone had a supportive family like he did, not everybody was surrounded by as much love as he was, and it seemed that Victor’s upbringing may have been rockier that he thought.

The Russian gave him a singular nod and took hold of his right hand, lacing their fingers together and admiring the golden band around his ring finger, so delicate and so entrancing. “Yes, but like I said, I can handle it.”

“If there ever comes a time when you can’t handle it, I’ll be waiting for you with lots of hugs and kisses,” Yuri whispered, leaning across him to press his lips to his forehead and sealing the promise on his skin.

Victor shifted Yuri’s ever-growing hair out of his eyes and rested his palm on his cheek, his skin as warm and as comforting as always. “I know, my sweet Yuri. Just as I will always be waiting for you.”

 

* * *

 

“I used to hate how cold it was on the ice,” Yuri mused, as he leant his forearms against the railing and looked out across the expanse of ice where he’d acquired his latest gold medal, “but now it sort of feels like home.”

Victor stretched out his back and sighed, the months of dedicated training and skating having put more pressure on his muscles than he was used to. “It does have a comfortable feel to it.”

Yuri took a step back and tilted his head as he looked at the array of seats on the opposite side of the rink; yesterday they’d been full with spectators and skating fans, all cheering and chanting for their idols, but now they were empty, not a soul to be seen in the stands or on the ice. “About the Grand Prix final…” he said, biting his lip as his eyes shifted to Victor. “I was thinking about redoing my Yuri on Ice routine, but updating it a bit.” He gazed up at the taller man, eyes wide and unblinking as he tried to read his expression. “It’s just I love the music and the routine, and I want to show how much I’ve improved since then, and-”

“Yuri,” Victor chuckled, cutting him off and laying his hand on his shoulder, “you don’t have to explain it to me. I think it is a brilliant idea. Sport is about improving, and to mark your progress in such a way shows your initiative. It would also be a good way to end the Grand Prix skate and prepare for the World Championships.”

Yuri swallowed down the lump in his throat at the mention of the most important competition in the skating world. It seemed so much scarier than the Grand Prix, and that alone was terrifying enough, but he’d promised himself that he would do it, promised Victor that he would do it, and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

He nodded as confidently as he could manage and steadily breathed in to calm the insistent thud of his heart, opening his mouth to speak and falling silent at the sound of footsteps behind him. The gentle taps came to a halt and he spun on his heels, expecting it to be Yurio and preparing to dodge a kick or an insult, but the sight that greeted him confirmed that it was definitely not Yurio; the man before him was tall, almost as tall as Victor, with the same silver hair and light eyes. The only noticeable difference was their clothing; Victor’s suit was crisp and pristine, almost unbelievably so, but the newcomer seemed to be more at home in a pair of jeans, a plain white top and a navy blue hooded sweatshirt.

Victor’s eyes went wide and a breath caught in his throat as he stared at the man, his mind racing so quickly that it was impossible for him to catch a thought, never mind hold on to one. “Dmitry?” he all but squeaked, taking a step forwards and trying to speak again. “I… thought… I didn’t think…”

Dmitry titled his head and focused his sea blue gaze on the taller of the two men, a mischievous smirk lighting up his features as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight from his left foot to his right. “It’s wonderful to see you too, brother.”


	2. Reconciliation

**Chapter 2: Reconciliation**

 

“Brother?” Yuri squeaked, covering his mouth and gazing wide-eyed at Dmitry. He’d known for years that there was a second Nikiforov brother, but he hadn’t wanted to ask about him since Victor never broached the subject. He’d only mentioned him once, when he was drunk, but he hadn’t said much about him, only that he missed him and wished that he’d call. “This is your brother?”

“Yes,” Victor breathed, his stare fixated on his younger sibling as he tilted his head and smiled at them both. “This is Dmitry.”

Dmitry’s light eyes shifted from Victor to Yuri and he raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of the man who’d enthralled his brother, the shock still radiating from his features and his mouth moving in an attempt to form words. “You must be the famous Yuri Katsuki,” he said, bowing his head to him politely. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot.”

“What are you doing here, Dmitry?” Victor demanded coldly, cutting off any response Yuri was trying to give. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and for a moment he wondered whether his mind was deceiving him, whether he’d put too much strain on himself and he was hallucinating, but his brother really was there, grinning stupidly as if nothing had ever happened. “Years with nothing, and you just show up?”

“Can I not come and visit my big brother?” Dmitry replied, his smile slipping a few centimetres and his once bright features dimming under the icy eyes of his older sibling. “Is it a crime to want to see you?”

Victor narrowed his eyebrows at him and tried not to be angry, but after years and years of silence and worry, it was difficult not to be annoyed at him. He should be begging for forgiveness after running away like that, after leaving in the middle of the night with nothing but a short note to say that he’d left; he should be apologising and explaining himself, and promising that he was never going to do such a thing again, but there he stood, smiling like a fool and looking at him with innocent eyes. “Have you spoken to father?” he asked quietly, lowering his voice and maintaining eye contact. His brother may have been gone for a while, he may have grown a little taller and changed his hair, but he still knew when he was lying; that would never change. 

Dmitry shook his head, the remainder of his cheerful demeanour slipping from him in an instant. “No,” he said stoically, standing up to his full height. “Have you?”

“A little over the past few weeks,” Victor told him, his hands tensing into fists at the thought of the man he was supposed to call his father and the recent conversations with him bubbling on the surface of his mind. “Have you spoken to mother?”

“Of course I have. I call her ever week, just as I have done for the past four years.”

“Does she know that you’re back?”

“Not yet.”

Victor let out a heavy breath and relaxed his muscles, the rising tension in his arms making them ache. It wasn’t Dmitry’s fault, he wasn’t to blame for what had happened; he’d only done what he’d thought was right in leaving and not looking back, but he’d left such a mess in his wake when he’d turned his back on the family, such misery and such sadness, and he couldn’t help but feel a little angry about it. “I can’t say I’m not glad to see you,” he said in honesty. “I’ve missed you.”

Dmitry’s optimistic grin returned and he clapped his brother’s arm, breathing out a sigh of relief when Victor offered him a brief smile. “I’ve missed you too, Vitya.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ve always liked the tea shops here,” Dmitry sighed wistfully, sipping on the warm drink in the delicately decorated china cup and glancing out of the window at the bustle of life in the square. “They’re so welcoming.”

“There is something rather calming about them,” Victor agreed, his hands in his lap and his tea all but forgotten about, “but we didn’t come here to exchange pleasantries.”

Dmitry’s attention instantly shot back to his brother, a small huff escaping his lips as he set his cup down and nodded. They’d only agreed to talk about their situation on Yuri’s request, and while he was willing to talk to his brother about their situation, part of him dreaded it. He knew that he’d have to face him one day, face the consequences of what he’d done. He should have called him, just the once to let him know how he was, to explain everything to him, but he hadn’t had the guts to do it, and now he desperately wished he had.

“Why did you leave?” Victor asked, more for clarification than anything else since Dmitry had left without telling him exactly why he was leaving; for all he knew, his suspicions were wrong.

“Why do you think?” Dmitry replied, almost hissing the words at him. He didn’t want to bring it up, he didn’t want to drag up what had happened after burying it away for four years, but he knew that no matter how he felt, Victor probably felt the same; he deserved an explanation at least.

He breathed deep to calm himself down and gave his brother an apologetic look, swallowing the lump in his throat before he spoke again. “Do you honestly believe I was going to let father scream at me for the rest of my life and treat like some sort of verbal punching bag? What was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him berate me for the rest of my life?”

“No,” Victor said softly, shaking his head and understanding how his brother felt. “I suppose what I should really be asking is why you didn’t contact _me_ for four years? I tried to contact you. I sent you text messages, emails, I tried to call you. If I’d have had an address, I would have written to you.”

Dmitry glanced down at the tea he was nursing and took another sip, letting the warm liquid soothe him and calm his pounding heart. If he could go back and change what had happened, he would without a second thought, but he couldn’t change a single thing; all he could do was make amends with the people he cared about most and hope that it was enough to earn their forgiveness. “I didn’t contact you because for a time I wanted to distance myself from everyone.” He sat back in his seat, admiring the view outside, the trees that held powder pink blossom in the spring now swaying in the light autumnal breeze, almost completely bare and withering. “I’d convinced myself that I would only get hurt, so I ran and hid myself away.”

Victor watched him carefully, from the broken look in his eyes to the idle tap of his fingertip against the porcelain cup. He’d seen what their father had done, he’d experience a similar torment, but his little brother had always had it worse; their father may have screamed at him from time to time, but with Dmitry he’d taken a different approach, berating him for losing competitions and making him feel small. Every single day had been a struggle, and while their father had never lain a finger on them, his words had cut deep and tormented Dmitry in ways that Victor could only imagine. While he’d been strong through it all and used his skating as an escape, his little brother had retreated, more and more until he’d taken it upon himself to leave.

He looked away and tried not to remember the amount of times he’d cradled him after each incident and wiped away his tears. He only wished he’d have been there for him more. Maybe then he wouldn’t have left. “Why are you back now?” he questioned, tilting his head as Dmitry turned back to him.

“Because I’m tired of running. I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to stand on my own two feet and fight. I’m not a child anymore, Victor, and it’s time I faced up to that.”

 

* * *

 

Yuri tapped his foot on the ground and glanced down at his watch, scanning the busy waiting room for his fiancé. Victor was supposed to be meeting him there, but he was nowhere to be seen. He checked his phone and sighed at the lack of messages, biting his lip and trying not to worry at the thought of them missing their flight to Japan.

He looked down at his watch again and adjusted the strap on his shoulder, the heavy bag he was carrying beginning to numb all of the senses in his arms. _Come on, Victor,_ he thought impatiently. _Where are you? You should be here by now._

Minutes later, after a lot of worrying on Yuri’s part and several unanswered phone calls, Victor appeared at the corner of the walkway and approached at a leisurely stroll. “Apologies for my lateness,” he chuckled lightly, kissing Yuri’s cheek in greeting. “We had a bit of a problem checking out of the hotel, but it’s all sorted now.” He gestured behind him at his brother, his smile growing. “I hope you don’t mind Dmitry joining us on our trip.”

Yuri glanced between the two and smiled, glad to see that they were in better spirits than they were when they’d left the rink. “Not at all,” he replied as they began to walk towards the departure lounge, nodding politely at Dmitry.

“Don’t worry,” the younger Nikiforov said playfully. “I won’t cause any trouble, and I’ll keep out of your way.”

“I don’t mind,” Yuri assured him with a bright grin, pulling on his suitcase as they got to the escalators and wrenching it up to balance it on the moving steps. “I’ve been wanting to meet you since I found out about you.”

Dmitry chuckled and patted Yuri on the back in gratitude for his kindness. He was glad that Victor had found someone like him, someone kind and determined to share his passions with. After all they’d been through, he deserved some happiness in his life, and there was nothing like the joy that came with true love.  “Well, as my future brother-in-law, we should meet and create a bond. If my time in Amsterdam has taught me anything about life, it is that family is everything.”

 

* * *

 

Yuri inhaled the stimulating scent of coffee coming from the multiple cafes and leant his hip against the wall, pulling his coat a little tighter around his shoulders as the icy air seeped into the lounge. He’d trained in Russia for nearly two years and experienced winters so cold that he could hear his teeth chattering, but he still wasn’t used to it, the chill that gripped him still making him uncomfortable.

Victor noticed his discomfort and removed his scarf, placing it over Yuri’s own and smiling softly at him as he bundled the warm fabric around him. “I can’t have my pork cutlet bowl getting cold.” He noticed the blush rise in his cheeks and chuckled, brushing his fingertips across the pink tint. _How can someone be so adorable?_ he wondered, tilting his head and biting his lip in thought.

“Did you sort everything out with Dmitry?” Yuri inquired, sensing an unease in Victor’s demeanour and placing his hand tenderly over his.

“Sort of,” he replied quietly. “We spoke a little. He confirmed why he left and why he didn’t contact me.”

Yuri could see the racing thoughts skimming his eyes and dimming the sparkle in them, and shifted his hands to his arms, trying to comfort him in the only way he knew how. “But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.” Victor looked down and sighed, his warm breath hitting the cold air and swirling in front of his eyes. “It’s just brought up a lot of things I’d rather forget. But don’t worry, I’ll be okay.”

Yuri took a precautionary glance around the lounge to make sure that they weren’t being watched, and once he was satisfied he grabbed hold of Victor’s shoulders and wrapped his arms around him, embracing him tightly. “Whatever happened in the past, Victor, it’s gone and it can’t hurt you anymore.”

Victor rested his forehead on his shoulder and kept his arms firmly around his waist, grateful beyond words for his kindness and his unwavering support, but it didn’t change the fact that he could feel the past catching up with him, the years of avoiding it beginning to bear consequences, and he wasn’t sure he was ready for it. “If only that were true.”  


	3. Curtain Up

**Chapter 3: Curtain Up**

 

“Ah! I have missed Japan so much,” Victor expressed, closing his eyes and breathing in the homely air as they stepped out of the taxi and onto the bustling pavement. There were masses of press and cameras waiting for them, all eager to catch a glimpse of the sporting stars, but he didn’t seem to notice; he was far too preoccupied in reminiscing to take note of the intermittent flashes of light and insistent calls of his name. 

Noticing that Yuri wasn’t as calm, he placed his arm around his waist and led him through the onslaught of journalists and reporters.

“Victor!” one called, waving his hand in the air to catch his attention. “Victor Nikiforov! Over here!”

Victor kept his arm firmly wrapped around Yuri and turned to the reporter, giving his customary charming smile and shaking a few stray locks of hair from in front of his eyes. “Yes?” A microphone was instantly shoved into his face once the reporter realised that he was willing to speak to him, but he kept his smile steady and aimed an unblinking glare at the man needlessly invading his personal space.

“Mr Nikiforov, how do you feel competing against your own student?” the reporter questioned, an intrusive glint in his eyes as he regarded the five-time Grand Prix champion and the timid man stood beside him.

“I feel as I would competing against anybody,” Victor replied, shrugging his shoulders and chuckling melodically. “There is no difference to me.”

“So you won’t be going easy on him because he’s your fiancé?”

“Quite the opposite. We are athletes after all, and it is important that we do our best.”

More and more questions were screamed over the din, but with Yuri beginning to tremble at the amount of unnerving attention being aimed at them both, Victor held his hand up and shook his head, refusing any more questions and leading his fiancé calmly into the hotel.

He seemed to relax a little once they’d entered the lobby, the tension slipping from him and his wide eyes softening as they took in the glow of the vast hall and the fountain trickling by the far wall.

“Thank you for taking over out there,” he said quietly, peering over his shoulder at the hoard of cameras and reporters trying to get into the hotel.

Victor took hold of his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “As long as it keeps you calm, I don’t mind. Usually the press don’t care as long as you give them something.”

A high-pitched, playful bark shot through the peaceful lobby, and Makkachin’s ears prickled as he took in the sound. He looked around and sniffed at the air, pinpointing the scent he was after and focusing intently on the staircase running down the centre of the hall.

There was another bark and a skitter, and seconds later a Blenheim Cavalier King Charles Spaniel bolted into the lobby, swiftly followed by her owner.

“Queenie! Get back here!” the woman squealed, her heels clicking on the pristine marble floor as she ran after the small dog. She scooped her up while she was busy sniffing at Makkachin’s ears and propped her up against her shoulder, looking down at her disapprovingly. “You’re not to run away from me like that again, Queenie,” she huffed, catching her breath and turning her attention to the two tall men stood before her, her bright smile lighting up her forest green eyes. “Oh am I glad to see you two,” she chuckled sweetly. “You both look so well.”

Victor beamed at the Englishwoman. “Thank you, Rosa. You are looking perfectly radiant yourself. Are you looking forward to the competition?”

“I can’t wait,” Rosa enthused, barely able to contain her excitement. “Third gold here I come.”

“Rosa!”

The three all turned in unison and spotted the light-haired man stood on the staircase, his lips pressed into a stern line and an impatient breath blowing from his nose.

“Come on. You still have practice today.”

“Sorry, Harry,” Rosa called before turning back to Victor and Yuri. “I’ll catch up with you both later.” She dashed across the hall and followed after her coach, Queenie’s long ears swaying as her owner hurried back through the lobby.

Victor chuckled to himself and stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching as the pair disappeared at the top of the staircase. “She has such a bright spark about her, doesn’t she?”

“She does,” Yuri agreed, lifting up the handle of his suitcase and peering back over his shoulder at the accumulating crowd outside. “Where’s Dmitry?”

“He’s outside, on the phone to our mother. He promised he’d call her once we’d arrived.”

 

* * *

 

“How did I ever think this was going to be easy?” Victor stressed, throwing his hands into the air and shaking his head disdainfully. What had started out as a reminiscent conversation about their memories had quickly turned into an argument, the older brother’s rage igniting at the mention of the one person he wanted to forget about, and the one person he wanted to keep away from him at all costs.

“I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss about it,” Dmitry said, shrugging his shoulders. “All I said was that we need to plan for the possibility of our father making an appearance since he knows that I’ve returned from Amsterdam. I don’t understand you’re objection to that.”

“My objection to it is that it involves you,” Victor replied sternly. He tried not to shout, to raise his voice in order to get his brother to see that he would not involve him in such atrocities again, but with him insisting that they face any troubles together, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep him away from it.

“Why shouldn’t it?” Dmitry challenged, getting to his feet. “Why should it not involve me? Those things happened to me too, Victor, or are you forgetting that?”

“I could never forget that! How could I?” Victor’s words scratched his throat as the strangled cry rose from the darkest parts of him and left his lips, the tears in his eyes threatening to fall at any moment and his hands shaking. His chest rose and fell as he drew in each desperate breath, trying not to lose his temper; it wasn’t Dmitry’s fault, none of it was, but he wouldn’t let him go back there, back to that horrid place in their lives, not if he could help it. “How could I ever forget it? It broke me when you left. You are my little brother, it’s my job to look after you, and I failed. I failed to protect you, failed to make you feel safe.” He hung his head in shame, the tears flowing freely now and his hands balled into fists as the haunting memories relentlessly tormented him. “I failed to do the one thing that I was supposed to do, and it broke me.”

Dmitry could feel his anger rising, his brother’s insistence on mollycoddling him beginning to get on his nerves. “You’ve got to stop this, Victor,” he said as calmly as he could manage, wiping his eyes as his own wave of tears fell. “You can’t keep treating me like a child, like some injured animal who needs constant care and attention.”

“And you need to realise that it will do you no good in confronting him for what he did!” Victor snapped.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” Dmitry yelled, completely abandoning his composure. “I’m twenty-five years old. If I have to face him then I will, with or without your support!” He ran a shaking hand through his light hair and breathed as steadily as he could, his mind racing and his heart pounding so loudly he could almost hear it ringing in his ears. “You know what, it was easier in Amsterdam when I didn’t have to think about all of this.”

“Well maybe you should go back there,” Victor spat in a fit of anger, waving his hand towards the door.

“Maybe I will.” Without so much as another angered word, Dmitry stormed out of the hotel room, leaving his brother to rage alone and contemplate what he’d said.

Victor didn’t have time for this, for Dmitry’s stubborn nature and his growing fear, and so after a heaved breath he grabbed his suit from the wardrobe and prepared himself for the pool party he was expected to attend, determined to remain cheerful for Yuri’s sake. He wouldn’t allow an argument to spoil his night.

 

* * *

 

“I’ve always found it so tranquil here,” Chris sighed, raising his glass to his lips and leaning back against the railing, his green-eyed gaze skimming the calm waters of the swimming pool and the array of skaters gathered around it. Everybody was dressed in dazzling finery, the lanterns placed on the low fence lighting up the crisp white shirts and expensive jewels, making them glimmer and glow. “I love skating, but sometimes it’s nice to just relax.” He took a sip of the blue cocktail and let out a short breath, turning his attention to Yuri and Victor stood beside him. “So when are you two going to get married? It’s been forever since you got engaged.”

Yuri almost choked on the mouthful of sakura tea he’d taken, swallowing the last drops before he turned his wide-eyed stare to Chris. He could feel his face burning, the pink-tinged blush lighting up his skin and brushing across his cheeks.

Victor nonchalantly brushed off the comment with an amused chuckle and a sweet smile, sipping on his champagne. “Once Yuri has won a gold medal at the Grand Prix, then we will get married.”

“No pressure there then, Yuri,” Chris teased, raising an eyebrow at him and taking another sip of his cocktail.

“Yeah,” Yuri laughed nervously, still coughing and spluttering, and easing the sting in his throat with another large gulp of tea. He could feel Victor’s eyes on him, inquisitive and fascinated as ever, and he tried not to look at him, knowing that with just one look at his fiancé his pink cheeks would turn an inescapable shade of red, but it was easier said than done.

Chris let out a brief chuckle at Yuri’s innocence and adorability, and turned his eyes to the DJ. “I like classical music just as much as the next person, but sometimes what a party needs is a bit of fun,” he sighed, making his way over to the turntables.

“As long as it’s not something he’ll strip to, I think I’ll be okay,” Yuri muttered, taking a smaller sip of his tea and watching as Chris blatantly flirted with the DJ.

“This is Chris we’re talking about,” Victor reasoned, settling back against the fence and glancing down at his partner. “He would strip to Mozart if he felt like it.”

Yuri realised that he was right and nodded in agreement; Chris really would strip to Mozart if the mood took him. The only thing they could do is hope that he didn’t.

 

Rosa gently swayed her hips to the rhythm of the upbeat music, a powder pink cocktail in her hand and a bright grin on her lips. “Don’t you just love a party?” she enthused, turning to her cousin and continuing to sway and dance.

Freddie chuckled and glanced down at the small woman he’d grown up with, glad to see that she was having fun. “I do, little rose,” he replied affectionately, taking her hand and spinning her under his arm playfully. 

She giggled and held her drink steady as she span, taking a large gulp of it when he let her go. The alcohol burned for a fraction of a second before the citrus exploded on her tongue, the sudden release of flavours making her cringe and cough.

“You never could take your alcohol well,” Freddie laughed as she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

“Have you tasted this?” Rosa squeaked. She held out the glass and let him take a sip, laughing uncontrollable when he winced and immediately handed it back to her in his hurry to be rid of it. “See. It’s sour.” She took another mouthful and this time the taste wasn’t as apparent, the burn only slight and the lemon aftertaste rather refreshing.

A flash of blond hair caught her attention between two of the rectangular columns and a smile lit up her features, the joy reaching her eyes and making them sparkle. She rushed over to the young skater, Freddie in tow, and embraced him tightly before he could run away from her. “There’s our little champion,” she enthused as she squeezed Yurio in an almost bone-crushing embrace. “You’ve made the skating world so proud.”

Yurio drew away and took a step back just for good measure, glaring at the woman. “Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, taking his leave before she could crush him again and quickly finding Otabek by the accumulation of deck chairs.

“Warm as ever,” Freddie said in jest. He noticed the unimpressed look on Rosa’s face and shrugged his shoulders, resisting the urge to snicker. The alcohol he’d been consuming throughout the night was beginning to dull all his senses, and it took all his strength just to remain upright.

“Did you contact Aunt Emily to tell her we were here?” she asked, swiftly changing the subject before he decided to be sarcastic again. He was getting drunk, and when he was inebriated, he had the tendency of becoming infuriatingly sarcastic.

“You know my mother. She phoned me before I had chance to.”

Rosa let out a short laugh and looked around at the growing party, her eyes skimming the bright colours of the women’s dresses and the men’s smart attire. “Oh,” she said, almost jumping up and down on the spot as she spotted one particular party-goer. “There’s Seung-gil. I want to say hello.”

 

Victor gasped and instantly put his drink down as the music changed to something a little more upbeat, grabbing hold of Yuri’s almost empty cup of sakura tea and placing it down by his glass of champagne. “Come on,” he said, taking hold of his hand and leading him to the makeshift dancefloor, “I love this song!”

Yuri had no choice but to follow him, chuckling under his breath as Victor spun him under his arm and caught him as they began to dance. “Why do I get the feeling you’re a little bit drunk?”

“Not drunk, my sweet Yuri,” Victor replied playfully, leaning closer to him to whisper in his ear, “just happy to be here with you.”

Yuri could feel his heart hammering in his chest, his breath hitching in his throat and his cheeks becoming warm again. A smile appeared on his lips and he wrapped his arms lovingly around Victor’s shoulders. “The feeling is mutual,” he replied softly, drawing back so that he could look the man he loved in the eyes as he spoke.

Victor grinned and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, that one sweet gesture speaking a thousand words; it spoke of his devotion, and his love, and his adoration, of his dreams and his wishes all fulfilled by him. Nothing could ever compare to what Yuri had given him, nothing could come close to the feeling that Yuri gave him, and nothing in the world ever would.

 

* * *

 

Yuri tried to focus on his routine, each beat of the music and each move playing in his mind, but the sound of the crowd and the bustle of the press was enough to well and truly shake him out of his concentration. There were so many people; he’d been skating for years and competed in countless competitions, but he didn’t think he’d ever be used to it. The piercing eyes of the reporters, the watchful gazes of the audience, the judgemental glare from his rivals… he’d never be accustomed to it.

He looked up at Victor and noticed that he was preoccupied, his glistening eyes glancing around and his eyebrows narrowed as he searched for something.

“Dmitry said he’d be here,” the Russian said disappointingly, wondering where his brother could have gotten to. For a moment he began to worry that he had gone back to Amsterdam, that he’d left again and would never return. He’d pushed him too far, let his protectiveness of him get in the way, and he feared that he’d once again lost one of the most precious things he had.

“Yes, I did.”

Victor and Yuri turned on their heels and their eyes found the smiling, silver-haired man, his eyes flicking between the two of them and his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

“You always were late,” Victor commented, breathing out in relief now that he was certain his brother hadn’t left again.

Dmitry shrugged his shoulders and neared the two, putting his hands on their shoulders. “Good luck, both of you,” he said. “I’ll be on the side-lines cheering you on.” He tried to avoid eye contact with his brother, aiming his smile at Yuri and patting his arm supportively, but he could feel Victor’s gaze on him. He didn’t know whether it was apologetic or angry, and he didn’t dare to look to see which it was.

Victor could see that his sibling was trying to ignore him, but he couldn’t exactly blame him for it. He only hoped that once the competition was over they’d have some time to properly talk about what had happened and what they’d said.

Breathing away his worries and refusing to think about it until the competition was done, he turned to Yuri and took hold of his hand. “Are you ready?” he asked encouragingly.

Yuri took in a deep lungful of air and swallowed down any last minute nerves, nodding and looking up at Victor with as much confident as he could manage. “I’m ready.”


	4. Thorns and Roses

**Chapter 4: Thorns and Roses**

Dmitry cheered from the side-lines, just as he’d promised, clapping his hands and calling out praise to Yuri as he took a bow and vacated the rink, landing straight into Victor’s arms the moment his skates left the ice.

“I’m so proud of you,” the older Nikiforov said, holding his fiancé close and breathing out a wistful sigh. “That was incredible.” He took a step back from the almost crushing embrace and placed his hands on his cheeks, peppering his face with kisses until he was giggling beneath his touch. “Yuri, you were beautiful. I couldn’t have done better myself.”

Yuri grabbed hold of Victor’s shoulders and dragged him in for another tight embrace, barely able to contain himself; he’d skated as if his life depended on it, skated like he never had before, and for the first time in his life he felt like he’d accomplished something amazing. Even if he didn’t win, even if he didn’t place on the podium at all, he’d still feel like he’d achieved something great. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied, swallowing hard as he looked up at Victor, his chest still heaving from the taxing performance and his heart skipping uncontrollably in his chest.

“I’ll have none of that,” Victor told him, taking a moment to admire the wonderful man he was to one day call his husband. “This victory is yours and yours alone, my sweet Yuri.”

“We don’t even have the scores yet,” the Japanese skater reasoned.

“With a performance like that, you’ll get gold. I’m certain of it.”

Dmitry turned away from them to give them a little privacy, listening to the whispered words they exchanged and hearing the smiles in them.  _They deserve every happiness,_ he thought to himself, sticking his hands into the pockets of his hooded sweatshirt and glancing around at the rest of the rink, the audience all ready for the next skater and the athletes preparing themselves for their performances.

As he turned, he caught sight of a long mane of dark-brown hair and a light blue summer dress, the glistening green eyes that found his shocking him into complete disbelief. A breath caught in his throat and he squeaked back a gasp, his wide eyes focused on the breathtaking woman.

Rosa couldn’t believe what she was seeing, her whole world screeching to a halt and jolting painfully back into action a second later, her heart pounding and her mind racing as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing.

“Little rose…” Dmitry breathed as she slowly approached him, his gaze locked onto hers. “You’ve grown.”

“Only… only by a couple of inches,” Rosa replied, forcing her words through the shock and trying to remain composed. 

Dmitry smiled at how much she hadn’t changed; her hair was still down to her waist, her eyes still like summer leaves, and her spirit still as upbeat and optimistic as it had been four years ago. But as he looked at her, he noticed the tears on her eyelashes, teetering on the edge and preparing to fall should she blink or move her head. “Rosa…” he said quietly, reaching out to her.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, keeping her smile as steady as she could and wiping her eyes as the years she’d spent missing him finally caught up with her. “I…” The tears fell against her will and she couldn’t wipe them away quickly enough, wet paths running down her cheeks as more of them slid free.

Dmitry’s heart shattered into a million pieces when she covered her face to hide her pain, and it took all his strength not to cry too at the sight of what his disappearance had done to her.

He took a small step forwards and gently took hold of her hands, moving them from in front of her face so that he could look at her. In that moment, all he wanted to do was hold her and apologise, over and over until his voice was hoarse and his throat was dry, but he couldn’t do it. He’d let her down, he’d let everybody down, and it would take more than apologies to fix the sorrow he’d left behind.

“You left,” she wept softly. “You left without a single word; not a goodbye, not an explanation, nothing. You just left. You didn’t even call, not once in four years, Dmitry.”

“I’m sorry, Rosa, truly I am,” he said earnestly, swallowing down the rising lump in his throat. His guilt was threatening to consume him and waves of shame were washing over him in leaping rushes, but he knew that if he really wanted to start making amends and repairing those bridges he’d left to collapse, he’d have to tell the truth. “I was wrong, I should have told you I was leaving, but I just… didn’t have the courage to say goodbye to you. I couldn’t look you in the eyes and say goodbye, so I didn’t. I left, and hoped that one day you’d forgive me.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Victor noticed his younger brother speaking to someone, and then he saw Rosa, the young woman in tears and Dmitry holding on to her hands as if they were a lifeline. Having been caught up in his brother’s unexpected return and the Grand Prix final preparations, he’d completely forgotten about Rosa; when his brother had been skating, the two had been inseparable, spending every moment they could together and always staying in touch when they were apart. He could still remember the heartbroken look on her face when he’d told her that her brother had left, that spark in her eyes dimming and her smile all but gone, but in true Rosa fashion she’d battled on, keeping her feelings to herself even though it was clear to see she was devastated.

He approached his brother and put his hand on his shoulder to get his attention, offering Rosa a reassuring smile before he turned to Dmitry. “Whatever you’re discussing, maybe you should wait until later,” he suggested. “Rosa still has to perform, and we don’t want to distract her.”

“Of course,” Dmitry said, reluctantly letting go of her hands and bowing his head in agreement. He wished he could get down on his knees there and then and beg for her forgiveness, he wished that he could tell her that he never should have left, that he thought of her often while he was away and wanted to return, but Victor was right; she was about to perform, and the last thing he wanted to do was distract her with past sorrows and overdue conversations. “Good luck, little rose,” he whispered, kissing her cheek and stepping to the side to let her pass.

He could feel his brother’s eyes on him as he watched the small skater head towards the changing rooms, almost blaming him for breaking her heart in such a thoughtless manner and returning without thinking of telling her. “I’ll make it up to her,” he promised. “I swear I will.”

“So you should,” Victor said plainly, taking in a deep breath and standing to his full height before he returned to his fiancé.

 

* * *

 

Yuri held the medal up to the light, turning it slowly so that the glow in the corridor caught every single inch of it. He’d done it, after years and years of hard work and determination, and no small amount of tears; the top spot on the podium was his and he had a brand new gold medal to add to his collection. 

Victor smiled and kissed the cold metal before he took hold of Yuri’s hand, pulling him a little bit closer to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “I’m so proud of you, Yuri,” he said tenderly, keeping his arms firmly wrapped around him. “I don’t think I could be more proud of you if I tried. You have worked so hard for that gold medal… but now I want to see you win the World Championships.”

“No pressure then,” Yuri breathed in jest.

“No pressure,” he promised, “just a lot of training and perseverance. For someone with as much stamina as you, it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Yuri covered his mouth to stop himself from squeaking at the suggestive look in Victor’s eyes; secretly, he thought it quite attractive, and quickly found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the growing smile on Victor’s lips.

Three sets of footsteps echoed down the corridor and the pair turned towards the sound, spotting Yurio making his way towards them. Yakov and Lilia followed close behind him, their sharp features and their critical looks aimed at the older skaters still locked in a relaxed embrace.

“Congratulations on your win, piggy,” Yurio said as he halted by them, aiming his glare at Yuri. “The scores were so close I would have won had it not been for that slip in my free skate.”

“Thank you,” Yuri replied, still a little nervous in the presence of the fierce young Russian, despite the numerous training sessions he’d had with him and the outings that himself, Victor and Yurio had been on. “Your routines were incredible.”

“Yes,” Yurio agreed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets and ignoring the silver medal hanging around his neck, “they were.” He glanced up and Victor and nodded in acknowledgment of him before he continued on his way, his coach and his dance instructor following in tow.

“That’s something I never thought I’d hear,” Victor confessed, blinking a few times as he contemplated what he’d just heard from Yurio, of all people.

“Did he just congratulate me?” Yuri squeaked, still in a state of mild disbelief.

“I think he did. I mean he called you piggy, but he still congratulated you.”

Yuri nodded and turned to his coach, his unblinking eyes searching Victor’s stunned expression for an answer as to what had just happened.

“Today is full of surprises,” he chuckled, wrapping an arm around Yuri’s shoulder and leading him back towards the rink.

 

* * *

 

“Our next skater is Rosa Kingsford from England. She will be skating to ‘Think of Me’ from Phantom of the Opera.”

Rosa took in a deep breath as the first few notes of the song whispered across the ice, trying to remain focused and keep herself composed. She had a routine to perform, and she couldn’t let anything distract her. She managed to reach the middle section of the first part of her routine before her mind started wandering, the lyrics speaking to her now more than ever.

_‘Think of all the things,_

_We_ _’ve shared and seen,_

 _Don_ _’t think about the way,_

 _Things might have been._ _’_

She leapt into her first triple jump and landed it perfectly, determined to see the routine through before she let even an ounce of sadness grip her. Each move was elongated and controlled, her grace and elegance following her around the ice in each lift of her arms and each controlled jump she leapt into. 

_‘Think of me, think of me waking,_

_Silent and resigned,_

_Imagine me, trying too hard,_

_To put you from my mind._ _’_

She couldn’t become distracted now, she had a third gold to win. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the pain she’d felt when Dmitry had gone, the empty space he’d left in her heart as he’d whisked himself away without so much as a goodbye.

_‘Recall those days, look back on all those times,_

_Think of the things we_ _’ll never do,_

_There will never be a day,_

_When I won_ _’t think of you.’_

Dmitry watched in awe from the railing, his eyes following every delicate movement she performed, entranced by the mere sight of her. From the other side of the rink he could see one of her close friends, Nina Ansel from Germany, cheering for her in her customary way, her arms reaching into the air as she jumped up and down on the spot in support. Beside her was Cecelia Losco of Italy, scowling at the sight of her rival doing so well, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a thin line.

He remembered Rosa once telling him that she didn’t think Cecelia liked her, after a competition in England. “Of course she doesn’t,” he’d chuckled in reply, slipping a chip from the polystyrene cup they’d been sharing. “You have a talent that she’ll never be able to reach.”

She’d scolded him for that comment, reminding him that she wasn’t above others and that there wasn’t a pedestal she’d been placed on, but then she’d smiled, the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, and thanked him for his faith in her.

As he watched, he longed to be out there with her, skating by her side, supporting her and ensuring she reached new heights, new dreams, but he was confined to the side-lines, there to watch, not participate, and it only made his longing even more apparent.

 _Focus,_ Rosa thought to herself, trying not to look at Dmitry as he watched her performance, but it was difficult to resist just one look. When her gaze caught him for a fraction of a second, she saw how entranced he was, how enthralled he was watching her skate. _He didn_ _’t mean to leave like that, so quickly and so quietly. His home life wasn’t as supportive as yours. It was difficult for him._

She neared the end of her routine and performed her last few jumps as precisely as she could manage, using the emotion flowing through her veins to push her towards the final crescendo. She spun and spun, gracefully and elegantly until she slowly came to a stop and held her hands out before her. She could see Freddie and his skating partner, Logan, stood beside Harry, clapping wildly and cheering for her as the audience got to their feet. But then her eyes found Dmitry, his smile so bright and so warm that it almost made her forget the past four years without him.

Remembering that she was still performing, she turned to the audience and curtseyed, taking her leave of the ice and making her way over to Harry to wait for her final score.

 

* * *

 

Victor let out a long breath and swallowed down the doubt rising in his throat as he approached his brother, wording and rewording what he wanted to say over and over again in his mind, but as he neared him, anything he’d wanted to say vanished in an instant.

“I thought I’d be the last person you’d want to see,” Dmitry said, spotting Victor out of the corner of his eyes as he settled beside him, and preparing to leave should he decide to shout at him again, but there was something in the way that his brother looked at him that made him think that he wasn’t there to scold him at all.

“I’m sorry,” Victor said sincerely. “I’m sorry for what I said, for yelling at you like I did. I didn’t mean to, I just…” He let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his hair, wracking his brain for the right words to express exactly what he wanted to say. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt again. The last thing I want is for you to… to see him, to hear those vile words from him again and leave like you did last time.”

Dmitry gave him a weak smile in understanding and stepped forwards to embrace him. “I know you didn’t mean to,” he assured him, patting his back. “And I’m sorry for what I said.” He drew back and looked his brother in the eyes, his hands placed firmly on his shoulders. “I left without thinking of the consequences, and now it’s time I dealt with them. I can’t run away from them forever, I shouldn’t have to run away from them.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Victor agreed, “but you don’t have to fight them alone. I will always be here for you whenever you need me, Dimka. No matter what I say, I will always be here for you.” 

 

* * *

 

The winners of the Grand Prix final stood before the array of banners, holding up their medals and smiling brightly at the cameras as dozens of pictures were taken simultaneously. Rosa, Yuri, Freddie and Logan all stood together at the front, presenting their gold medals with pride. Besides them were Yurio and Victor, and Mila and Cecelia. The silver and bronze medallists in the pair skate were knelt on the ground in front of Freddie and Logan, the six junior winners arrayed around them.

“Okay,” the media manger said, taking the lead and momentarily halting the intermittent flashes of light as he stood before the skaters. “Can we have pictures with each of the categories please? We’ll start with the ladies, then the men, then the juniors, and finally the pairs.”

The skaters rearranged themselves and Rosa, Mila and Cecelia all stood together, smiling sweetly as the lights began to flicker again.

“You only won because the judges favour you,” Cecelia sneered through gritted teeth, holding up her bronze medal and waiting for the blessed moment when she could take it off and throw it against a wall.

“That’s not the case and you know it, Cecelia,” Mila sighed before Rosa could reply, standing to her full height and easily towering over both of the women.

Once the photographers were satisfied, they moved on to the next category, working their way through each skater and each medal before the day was done.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ll sleep well tonight,” Yuri sighed, holding onto Victor’s hand as they made their way towards the changing rooms, part of him glad that it was over and the other part wishing that he could go out there and skate again. “I’m exhausted.” 


	5. Broken Bonds

**Chapter 5: Broken Bonds**

“You were incredible!” Dmitry enthused, turning on the spot and walking backwards so that he could face Rosa, his eyes alight with pride. “You were better than incredible… you were stunning! An angel of the ice!”

Rosa chuckled and bowed her head modestly, her cheeks beginning to feel warm as she looked back up at him and saw how proud he was; for a moment it felt as if he’d never left, as if those years without him had never existed, but they had, and she couldn’t escape that, no matter how much he smiled at her and no matter how proud of her he was. He’d left her to think that he’d gone for good, and there was no getting away from that.

“It almost made me want to skate again.”

“Only almost,” Rosa teased, linking her arm through his as they strolled towards the hotel. The night was beginning to creep in and the last of the daylight was fading, but there was still enough light to see by, the streetlights only just beginning to flicker and the town still bustling with people.

“What I mean is I’d love to skate with you,” Dmitry corrected.

Rosa playfully nudged his arm and laughed at the raised eyebrow she got from him. “I’m ever so glad you’re back. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, little rose,” Dmitry replied, poking her arm in response to the jovial nudge, and laughing with her as she giggled. “I only wish I’d never left. But my mother always used to say that certain things in life happen for a reason. Maybe I left so that I could realise that the most important things I have in my life are right in front of me?” The soft, tender smile that slipped across Rosa’s lips lifted his heavy heart, and in that moment all he wanted to do was embrace her and tell her how truly sorry he was, but there would be time for that; he’d make sure of it.

“I have an idea,” she said as they got into the centre of the town, her eyes cast ahead of her at the strings of light between the lampposts and the bare blossom trees. “Why don’t you come and watch me at the European Cup?” She could see the idea going through his mind, and for a second she thought that she’d put him in an uncomfortable position. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just thought that maybe we could-”

“Rosa,” Dmitry said quietly, taking a step in front of her to stop her in her tracks and holding onto her hands. “I would like nothing more than to watch you skate again.”

“Really?” Rosa breathed, the glow from the street lamps and the strings of light illuminating her delicate features.

The Russian gave her a bright grin and a singular nod in reassurance. “Yes. I have missed out on so much these past few years, and if there’s one thing I really want to do, it’s see you skate again.”

 

* * *

 

Yuri stretched his legs out before him and leant forwards, grabbing hold of his feet and retaining his position. “Are you sure about going to the European Cup?” he asked, peering over his shoulder at Victor as he dried his silver hair with a towel. “It is in Moscow, and with all of the stuff going on with your father, maybe we should-”

Victor knelt down in front of him and put his finger on his lips, hushing him in an instant. “I will not let the arrogance of my father interrupt my career,” he told him. “We have both worked far too hard to get us to where we are today, and I will not have him unsettling that.”

“But what if he shows up at the rink?” Yuri reasoned, sitting back up and letting out a short, nervous breath. He knew that Victor wouldn’t relent and that he’d compete either way, but he couldn’t help but worry about the fragile relationship between him and his father, especially since he’d been contacting him so insistently recently. It didn’t bode well, and the last thing he wanted was for him to get hurt.

“If he shows up at the rink, I will tell him to leave,” Victor replied with a shrug. “He’s not a stupid man, he won’t confront me in public.” He could see that Yuri was concerned, the crease in his forehead and the frightened look in his eyes was enough to tell him that, and he instinctively reached out to caress his cheek; his fingertips traced the line of his cheekbone and slowly slipped down to his chin. “He won’t get in the way of my career,” he assured him, “and he won’t get in the way of us. I love you far too much to ever let that happen.”

Yuri was a little taken aback by his words, but once they’d sunk in he launched himself forwards and wrapped his arms around Victor, holding him as tightly as he could. “Just promise me that you won’t let him get in the way of your skating,” he muttered against his shoulder.

Victor ran his fingers through Yuri’s hair and nodded. “I promise.” He got to his feet and held his hands out to his fiancé, helping him to stand and leading him across the room. “Now, we need to get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

The moment the skaters arrived in Moscow, the reporters were alert, camera lights flashing and microphones held in the athletes’ faces as questions were thrown at them, the once quiet rabble now eagerly scrambling over each other to be heard first.

“It feels like I’ve been away from Russia for years,” Victor sighed, avoiding the reporters and cameras as he strolled through the arrival gates. He could see that their presence was making Yuri nervous, and took hold of his hand to support him.

“Yeah,” Yuri agreed, “but it’s still freezing cold.”

“It is rather cold,” Victor chuckled, his eyes scanning the array of skating fans waiting for them with banners held aloft, screeches of support and encouragement rising into the air as they welcomed the athletes to the country. That was when he saw him, his breath catching in his throat and his grasp on Yuri tightening.

“Victor?” Yuri narrowed his eyebrows and tried to see what had caught his attention, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The fans were screaming as usual, many of the skaters were trying desperately to avoid them, and the press were as insistent as they always were.

Victor halted and turned his back on the crowd, speaking as quietly and discreetly as he could; he couldn’t afford to have unwanted attention drawn to him. “I want you to find Dmitry and keep him away from crowd for a few minutes, okay?”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Just trust me, please.”

Yuri peered over Victor’s shoulder and tried to see what had unnerved him, but he still couldn’t spot anything amiss. When he turned his attention back to Victor, he gave him a nod and made his way back through the arrival lounge to find Dmitry, trusting him enough to do as he’d asked.

Victor waited until his form had disappeared into the arriving group of athletes before approaching the tall, bearded man, stood beside the crowd of screaming fans. “What are you doing here, father?” he hissed, noticing his mother stood a few paces behind him and giving her a warm smile.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Ivan replied plainly. “How else was I supposed to contact you?” He narrowed his eyes at his eldest son and let out a frustrated breath, scrutinising him critically with his bright blue eyes. “Now, are you finished with your silly infatuation and ready to compete properly again?”

Victor’s jaw tensed and he resisted the urge to shout, taking in a calming breath and reminding himself that it would do him no good to get angry. The last thing he wanted was for the press to spot him. “You will not talk about Yuri in such a way,” he told his father through gritted teeth, turning his attention back to his mother and noticing how miserable she looked, her eyes downcast and the smile he’d grown up with all but taken from her. “It’s good to see you again, mother,” he said softly, her gaze shifting to him and her eyes lighting up in only the way a doting mother’s eyes could.

Ivan let out an irritated grunt and clicked his fingers in front of Victor’s face to get his attention again, his patience wearing thin and his anger beginning to boil. “You always did get distracted easily,” he criticised. “I thought I’d gotten that out of you.”

“Go, father,” Victor suggested, his hands balling into fists as he fought to remain composed. “I’m sure you don’t want to cause a fuss.” He discreetly gestured behind him to the press, who were still insistent on speaking to the skaters and getting their photographs, and glared at his father as though he was challenging him to draw their attention.

Ivan peered around his son’s shoulder and spotted the mass of journalists and reporters, letting out a noise of disgust and rolling his eyes. “You are a disappointment, Victor,” he sneered, storming away and gesturing for his wife to follow.

Arina gave her husband a fleeting glance and turned back to her son, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m ever so proud of you, my precious boy,” she said, smiling at him for what felt like the first time in far too long. She remembered the little boy who loved to skate, his long hair tied in a ponytail and his smile bright and pure, and stood back to look up at the man he’d grown into. “And of your brother.”

Ivan grunted and grabbed hold of Arina’s wrist, tugging her harshly away from Victor. “Get going,” he demanded, nudging her towards the doors and refusing to look back as they departed the airport.

Victor watched them go, watched as his mother peered over her shoulder and was pushed again by his father, until they’d both disappeared through the doorway. After a moment of sadness, he stood back up to his full height and put a smile back on his lips, returning to the arriving skaters and searching for Yuri and his brother. 

 

* * *

 

“I know you’re worried about him,” Phichit said, sipping on the coffee in his grasp, “but I’m sure he’ll be okay. Victor knows what he’s doing.”

“I know,” Yuri sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and breathing out heavily. “I just want to be able to do something for him. He’s always been there for me, no matter how big or small the situation, and I want to be able to stand by his side and help him. When we’re married, we’ll be family by law, and watching him suffer like this is driving me mad.”

Phichit put his hand on Yuri’s arm in support as they made their way down the bustling street, seeing that he was troubled and wanting nothing more than to put his mind at rest, but he knew that this was a fight that Victor would have to fight on his own, and all that Yuri could do was be there for him when he returned. “You’re already helping him just by being there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so in love in all my life.” He noticed the blush tinting Yuri’s cheeks pink and chuckled, nudging him playfully and beaming once he’d gotten a small smile in response. “Maybe you should talk this through with him.”

“I have, but he just keeps telling me that he has it all under control,” Yuri replied, trying not to let the situation get the better of him; Victor needed him, now more than ever, and he couldn’t let his frustration get in the way of that.

“Listen, you can’t fight all of his battles for him,” Phichit said softly, patting his back in encouragement, “but what you can do is be there when he returns from those battles. That probably means more than you think. In the past, Victor may not have had anybody to turn to, nobody he trusted as much as he trusts you, and that will make the world of difference. He may not say it outright, but I bet you anything that he’s blessing his lucky stars for you.”

Yuri couldn’t help but smile at Phichit’s kind words, the smile growing when he heard the conviction and surety behind them. He could always count on him when he doubted himself. “Thanks, Phichit.”

“No problem,” he chirped, the grin that spread across his lips lighting up his youthful features. “Oh, I found this really cute coffee shop the other day. Come on. I’ll show you.”

Before Yuri could reply, Phichit had taken his hand and was all but dragging him swiftly down the street, his feet catching underneath him before they caught up and allowed his former roommate to lead him through the busy crowds of shoppers.

 

* * *

 

“I’d say I’m surprised,” Yuri said to Victor as they entered the private suite, gazing at the gold and silver decorations and the elaborate ice sculptures placed at various points around the room, “but this is Chris we’re talking about. He doesn’t do things by half.”

Victor chuckled and nodded in wholehearted agreement, his eyes catching the multi-coloured lanterns and the disco ball spinning above the dancefloor. The banners above the DJ booth congratulating the medallists swayed in the subtle breeze cast by the vents, the shadows on the floor mingling with the ever-changing lights and the silhouettes of the other dancers.

He glanced down at Yuri and held his hand out as the song changed, the slow beats of Stay with Me filling the room and calming the atmosphere. “May I have this dance?” he asked, his smile widening when Yuri accepted his hand and let him lead him to the dancefloor.

 

“Congratulations on your gold,” Dmitry said, his hands resting on Rosa’s waist as they swayed to the steady beat of the music and a proud smile lighting up his sharp features.

“Thank you,” she replied, adjusting her gentle grasp on Dmitry’s shoulders and looking down at the gap between them, the multi-coloured lights reflecting off the facets of the disco ball swirling in intricate patterns. “Did you see my first gold win?”

“I did. I watched it on TV. I cried so much.”

Rosa’s gaze instantly shot up and she saw the truth of it written all over his face; his smile softened, his expression relaxed, and his fixed gaze became reminiscent as he recalled the memory.

“It’s true,” he said in response to her look of disbelief. “I bawled like a baby, I was so proud. And then the regret set in.” His voice shook as he remembered watching her accept her first gold medal, the joy that had lifted his heart and then the bitter sting of remorse that had brought it crashing back down to Earth again. “I should have been there, I should have sat with you at the kiss and cry as you got your scores, and told you how proud I was of you.”

Rosa placed a hand on his cheek and rubbed soothing circles onto his skin with her thumb, refusing to speak until he looked at her again. “Don’t regret anything,” she told him, “because I’m glad you saw it.”

 

Victor spun Yuri under his arm and took hold of his waist, smiling at the adorable blush creeping into his cheeks and tilting his chin back up when he tried to hide it. “I’ve been thinking about the wedding,” he said. “We should get married once the World Championships are done. Maybe a winter wedding in December? The championships end in March, so we’ll have plenty of time to plan everything.”

Yuri shifted closer to his fiancé so that they were almost nose-to-nose, unable to contain the surge of elation and love coursing through his veins. “I like the idea of that,” he whispered, leaning a little closer until his lips were brushing against his ear. “The ice brought us together, so we should have a winter wedding.”

As the song changed from the slow and steady beats of Stay with Me to the upbeat rhythm of Raise your Glass, the dancefloor became swamped with dancers again, everybody jumping and singing along, some slurring the lyrics more than others.

 

Dmitry sat Rosa on his shoulders and laughed as she raised her arms into the air, holding her glass of champagne above her head and singing at the top of her lungs. He spotted Victor and Yuri close by, his brother holding onto the Japanese skater as they too danced the night away. No matter what happened, no matter what adversities they’d have to face, they’d always have each other, and he was glad to see that his brother was going to spend the rest of his life with someone as loving and caring as Yuri.   


	6. Four Continents

**Chapter 6: Four Continents**

The noise of the planes were far too loud and the sun too bright as far as Chris was concerned, and the only solace he got was from the sunglasses perched firmly on the bridge of his nose. Most of the skaters arriving in Taiwan were quiet, the previous night’s party having caused more than a few hangovers and many ill stomachs, and nobody was in any sort of mood to be jovial.

He squinted as they passed a long row of windows, a few stray tendrils of sunlight slipping through the side of his glasses and making colours pop before his eyes. “Before we landed, Otabek asked me if I had any regrets about the party,” he said, his voice crackling from the lack of sleep and the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed the night before.

“And what did you tell him?” Victor asked, chirpier than usual, his hands stuffed into his pockets and a wide smile spread across his lips.

“No, of course,” Chris replied matter-of-factly, shaking his head and instantly regretting it as the ache in his skull heightened. Usually, he spent the morning after a party recovering, but having booked his flight to Taiwan to watch the Four Continents, he’d had no choice but to wake blearily from his brief slumber and get himself to the airport. “What am I? Boring? I’m just glad I’m not skating with this headache.”

Victor chuckled melodically and gently patted his good friend on the back in sympathy. “The day you become boring is the day that pigs grow wings and fly.”

“Nobody wants to see that,” Chris said, cringing at the thought. “Think of all the pig crap. Disgusting.”

An announcement was made over the speakers and Chris’s hands flew to his ears, the loud voice sending spikes through his head and making him feel nauseous.

Victor gently rubbed his back and resisted the urge to laugh; Chris always did like to enjoy himself, even if it meant having to suffer for it the day after.

“My head feels like it’s about to burst,” the Swiss man complained, standing back up to his full height once the announcement was finally over and raking his fingers through his fair hair.

“You could always take the day off,” Victor suggested, but the unimpressed look he got from Chris in response was enough to tell him that he was not, under any circumstances, going to take his advice.

“As if I’d do that. Our little Yuri is performing and I’m not going to miss it.”

“I could always record it.”

“No way. I want to see it first-hand.”

 

* * *

 

“I can’t wait for this,” Nina enthused, barely able to contain herself. “It’s so odd watching it from the seats. I wonder who’s going to win… oh, I hope Yuri places!”

Rosa chuckled at her friend’s untamed enthusiasm and glanced over to her, noticing the irrepressible glow of anticipation in her eyes. “He’s a brilliant skater,” she agreed. “I’d put money on him placing.”

Nina smiled and sat back in her seat, looking over the rink and the gathering crowd. Her unblinking gaze caught some of the skaters as they prepared for the competition, and the odd feeling that she should be down there with them rose.

“He’s not as good as he thinks he is.”

The two women peered over their shoulders and caught sight of Cecelia sat behind them, a scowl on her face and her arms crossed over her chest as her judgemental glare shifted from the ice to the pair in front of her.

“I think he underestimates himself,” Nina replied. “He may take the odd tumble, but we all do. Even you.”

Cecelia stared coldly at the German skater before her scrutiny turned to Rosa, a sly glint taking over her dark eyes. “I didn’t think I’d see you here,” she said, putting her nose in the air and staring down at the Englishwoman in an attempt to intimidate her.

“Why would I not be here?” Rosa asked, exchanging a bewildered glance with Nina before she turned back to the woman in the chair behind her.

“Because Dmitry is leaving. He’s said goodbye to Victor. I thought you’d be saying goodbye to him before he goes.” A smirk grew on Cecelia’s lips and she sat back in her seat, raising her eyebrows as she took in the expression of distress settling on Rosa’s features. “Judging by the pathetic look on your face, I’m guessing he hasn’t told you.”

A breath caught in Rosa’s throat and her heart skipped a beat, her wide eyes glancing across the ice in an attempt to spot Dmitry; he’d promised he’d be there, and she’d assumed that he’d be with his brother, but he was nowhere to be seen and Victor and Yuri were already by the barriers. “He wouldn’t do that,” she breathed. “He wouldn’t leave again, not without saying goodbye.”

“I heard him speaking to Victor in the lobby this morning. He said he’d rushed back without thinking of the repercussions, and that he needed time to think.”

Nina couldn’t believe the cheek of the woman, shaking her head at her disdainfully, but Rosa was clearly stricken, tears lining her eyes and her lips parted to allow the flurried breaths to escape. “Don’t believe a word she-” It was too late; Rosa was out of her seat and bolting down the stairs before she could reach out and stop her, her hand wrapping around nothing but empty air. She turned back to Cecelia and wondered why she disliked them so much, why she had to go out of her way to spread misery. “You can be really nasty sometimes, Cecelia,” she said, grabbing her jacket from her seat and making her way calmly down the steps.

 

Rosa jogged to the other side of the rink, avoiding the masses of people arriving to watch the tournament in her search for Dmitry. _He wouldn_ _’t just leave,_ she thought to herself. _He_ _’s happy. Why would he leave?_ But Cecelia had sounded so sure, and all she could do was hope that she’d been mistaken.  

Before Dmitry, Rosa had only had Freddie. It had been the two of them against the world when they were younger, but he’d been a busy teenager, and an even busier adult, so outside of competing she rarely saw him. But then Dmitry had come along, so spirited and full of life, and she hadn’t felt so alone anymore. After that came Nina and the other skaters she now counted amongst her extended family, but Dmitry had been the first, the one to see her sat alone, the one who had taken the time to get to know her and shared in her secrets. He was her best friend, and nothing in the world would ever be able to change that.

She got to the entrance hall and spotted Phichit and Chris, jogging over to them. “Hi guys,” she said sweetly, ignoring their concerned looks as they watched her double over in an attempt to catch her breath. “You haven’t seen Dmitry, have you?”

Chris shook his head. “I can’t say I have. Why? Is he not here?”

“No. He said he would be, but I can’t see him.”

“I’m sure he got caught up in traffic or something,” Phichit said. “He’ll be here.”

Rosa thanked them and quickly wished Phichit good luck before she made her way back into the rink, spotting Victor and rushing over to him. “Victor!” she called, slowing to a halt as she reached him. “Where’s Dmitry? I thought he wanted to see the competition? He hasn’t left already, has he?” Once the questions had begun, she found it difficult to stop, her mind racing and her worry growing by the second. “I know he’s planning on leaving, Cecelia said she heard you speaking to him about it and I-”

Victor held his hand up to stop her flurry of panicked words and narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, wondering what had gotten her so worked up. “Dmitry isn’t leaving,” he assured her. “No such conversation has happened. He told me he’d forgotten something at the hotel and he’s gone back to get it. He’ll be here before the skating starts.” He placed his hands on her shoulders in comfort, beginning to understand what was going on.

“But Cecelia-”

“Rosa, the World Championships are coming up,” he reminded her. “I’m sure that Cecelia is just trying to knock your concentration. Such tactics aren’t unheard of.”

Rosa nodded and realised how foolish she’d been; she knew she shouldn’t have believed Cecelia, but she couldn’t deny that she was worried Dmitry would leave again. She couldn’t lose him, not the one person who had introduced her to a world of friendship and happiness, who’d helped her on the rocky road to confidence and supported her through her early career.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat and exhaled lightly, trying to let all of her worry go with it.

“Trust me when I say that Dmitry is quite happy,” Victor said. “He’s not stupid; he wouldn’t leave that happiness behind again, not for anything in the world.” He spotted a figure running towards them and smiled, pointing to Nina as she approached. “Why don’t you and Nina stay here with me and watch the skating? This is the best seat in the house.”

 

* * *

 

Dmitry held onto the small box with all his might, refusing to put it in his pocket in case it fell out; he was going to guard it with his life, and the safest place he could think of was in his grasp, where he could feel the velvet of the case and hear the gentle clink of the contents within.

Upon arrival at the stadium, he jogged through the entrance hall and into the bustle of the rink, spotting his brother and Yuri, and Rosa and Nina stood beside them, all of them laughing at something that Nina was telling them.

He swallowed down his apprehension and ignored the hurried beats of his heart, approaching the small group and keeping the box securely in his grasp.

“Ah, brother,” Victor said warmly, clapping his arm and smiling at him in greeting. “I wondered when you were going to get here. Miss Kingsford was getting worried.”

Dmitry glanced down at the woman in question and noticed the sheepish look on her face, the pink tinge lighting up her cheeks and her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“It was a huge misunderstanding,” she explained, waving the comment away. “It’s all fine now.”

“Good,” Dmitry said, his mouth feeling dry and his heart pounding so loud he could almost hear it. “I was hoping to speak with you, just for a minute. I know the skating is going to be begin soon.”

Rosa nodded, and after promising the others that they’d be back in a few minutes, she allowed him to lead her back out into the entrance hall, the vast room completely empty now that the competition was on the brink of starting. “What is it you want to speak with me about?” she asked, tilting her head when he remained quiet. She could see that he was thinking deeply about something, the contemplative look in his eyes giving away his nervousness in an instant.

In response, he opened up the velvet box in his hand and took out the delicate piece of jewellery from within, holding it up to the light so that each gem on the elegant pendant sparkled. “I saw this when I was out shopping in Moscow, and I was just looking for the right moment to give it to you.”

Rosa’s breath caught in her throat for the second time that day, her hands flying to cover her mouth and suppress the gasp on her lips. The necklace was beautiful, there was no denying that, the slim golden chain shining in the light and the multi-coloured gems on the dainty crown reflecting every glow they caught. “Dmitry, it’s…”

“When I saw it, I instantly saw the crown and thought of you. It’s like a tiny version of the one the Queen of England wears.” He took in her bright wide eyes and her demeanour of disbelief, and instantly began to think the worst. “If you don’t like it I can take it back. I-”

Rosa cut him off with a hug, thanking her lucky stars for him, for someone so thoughtful and so kind. “It’s beautiful, Dimka,” she breathed, tears of joy lining her eyes as he undid the clasp and moved to stand behind her. She felt the tiny pendant brush against her collarbone, and once it was secure she turned around to face him. “Why would I need a gold medal when I have a crown?”

 

* * *

 

Victor sprawled out on the king size bed, breathing out a busy day of skating and interviews, and breathing in the crisp night air flowing from the open balcony door. With a small grunt, he moved so that he was lying on his side, his eyes finding his beloved fiancé as he stretched his arms into the air and suppressed a yawn. He found himself enchanted by each and every movement Yuri made, the way his chest expanded as he inhaled and the gentle parting of his lips as he exhaled, and the focus in his eyes as he lifted his arms again; it was all completely enthralling.

“You’re staring,” Yuri said without breaking his concentration, slowly letting his arms drop to his side before turning to the man watching him.

“I know,” Victor replied teasingly, chuckling as Yuri moved his hands to conceal the rising blush. He reached out and took hold of one of his hands, taking it from in front of his face and gently drawing him a little closer. “Lie down with me,” he whispered, entwining their fingers and giving his wholehearted attention to the man he loved.

“I need to do my stretches,” Yuri replied, his eyes focused on Victor’s face as he took in the bright blue puppy dog eyes begging him to rest for a moment. With a gentle sigh, he relented and sat down on the bed, letting Victor cuddle close to him as he put his head down on the soft pillows. “You’ve been getting cuddlier recently,” he commented as Victor’s arms wound around him, one hand resting on his waist and the other finding his ever-growing dark hair.

“Have I?” the older man sighed absentmindedly, a playful grin spreading across his lips as he glanced down at Yuri. “Well, what can I say? I like holding you. It reminds me how lucky I am.”

Yuri could do nothing but smile, burying his face into Victor’s chest to conceal the red glow of his cheeks and the loving beam spreading across his lips.

“You know, every time I see you skate, I want to marry you even more,” the Russian mused, stroking Yuri’s soft curls and breathing in the scent of the freshly cleaned sheets and strawberry shampoo.

Yuri shifted so that he could look Victor in the eyes, the truth of his words shining clear and bright amongst the blue. He didn’t need to ask him if he really meant it; it was all there for him to see, Victor’s expression like an open book, willingly letting him read his secrets and his true feelings. “Well, after the championships, we can get married. You’ll just have to be patient until then.”

Victor chuckled and brushed his fingers against the pink glow of Yuri’s cheeks. “The more I think about it, the more impatient I become.”

“They do say patience is a virtue,” Yuri reminded him teasingly, tenderly poking the tip of his nose and getting back to his feet. When he turned back, he could see how content Victor was, his smile soft, his eyes even softer, and his expression containing a world’s worth of love and devotion. “But for the record, I’m becoming a little bit impatient too.”

 

* * *

 

Rosa put her hand over her mouth as she yawned, passing the plum blossom trees and array of bright flowers as she made her way into the hotel. Her eyes were heavy and her mind slowing down, the call of sleep enticing her after her busy day. All she wanted to do in that moment was get to her hotel room and rest.

As she got to the reception desk to pick up her room key, a flurried set of footsteps caught her attention, and she turned on her heels, spotting Cecelia running towards her, her hair in disarray and her expression unsettled.

“Rosa, you’ve got to come quick,” she insisted, doubling over and looking up at her. “Please.”

Rosa took the key from the receptionist and gave him a sweet smile, turning back to Cecelia with an unimpressed look on her face. “If this is one of your cruel tricks, I don’t want to know,” she told her, preparing to walk past her and ignore any attempts she made to disturb her again. “I’m not in the mood for it, not today.”

“It’s not,” Cecelia promised, taking the few steps towards the reception desk and grasping the edge of the surface as she spoke to the receptionist. “I need you to phone the hospital immediately and tell them to get an ambulance here as quickly as they can.”

The Englishwoman looked up at her and narrowed her eyebrows. Why did she need an ambulance? Who was hurt? There was no panic, no running guests or alarms, and so whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that serious. “Cecelia?”

The tall woman gave her attention back to Rosa once the man behind the desk had picked up the phone, swallowing down the panic rising in her throat and leading her towards the staircase. “It’s Harry,” she explained as calmly as she could. “I saw him walking to his room and he just suddenly fell. I tried to help him, but he won’t respond.”

“What?” Rosa squeaked, her wide eyes shooting up to Cecelia in an instant.

“I know you must think that I’m being cruel, I don’t blame you, but I promise it’s true. I saw him fall and I ran to help him, thinking that he’d tripped, but he’s unconscious and I can’t move him.”

Rosa tried to breathe steady; the worst thing she could do was panic. If Harry needed her help, she had to be as calm as she could.

The two ran all the way up to the second floor corridor and Rosa collapsed to her knees beside Harry, checking his pulse and his breathing, and thanking everything good in the world that he was still alive. “We need to get him to his room,” she said, once she was sure it was safe to move him, putting one of his arms around her shoulder and lifting him with Cecelia’s help. “It’s okay, Harry,” she told him reassuringly as they began to make their way down the corridor, “we’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Cecelia adjusted her hold on the man and placed her arm around his back so that she could support him better, straining against his weight but determined to get him safely to his room. She glanced down at Rosa, and a feeling of guilt washed over her. “I’m sorry for what I did,” she said earnestly. “For telling you that Dmitry was leaving, I mean. It was wrong of me to do that.”

Rosa’s eyes lifted to the Italian woman, scarcely believing what she was hearing; Cecelia never admitted that she was wrong, never apologised for anything, let alone upsetting her, so why was she now? “I, uh… I accept your apology,” she said, a little stricken by her admission. “And I’m sorry too.”

“What for?” Cecelia questioned, wondering what in the world Rosa would have to apologise for, least of all to her.

“For whatever I’ve done to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? How have you hurt me?”

“Well I must have done something for you to dislike me.”

A breath caught in Cecelia’s throat and she looked down at the navy blue carpet in shame, beginning to understand how her resentment had been taken not only by Rosa, but the other skaters too.

Once they’d reached Harry’s room, Rosa fished his key card out of his pocket and opened the door, aiding Cecelia in placing the unconscious man down on the bed and settling him comfortably on his back.

“Don’t be sorry, Rosa,” she said, taking her arm from around the English coach and placing it over his stomach.

“Why not?” Rosa shrugged.

“Because it’s not your fault.” Cecelia heaved a sigh and leant back against the desk, knowing that if she really wanted Rosa to forgive her for what she’d done, for the years of ridicule and cruelty, she’d have to be honest with her. “I’ve been so hostile towards you because all I want to do is make my parents proud, and the only way I can do that is by winning a gold medal.” She looked down at the floor and bit her lip, breathing out heavily and swallowing the rising lump in her throat. “The way they look at me when I lose…”

Rosa nodded, not out of understanding or a shared experience, she’d never known her parents and her aunt was always supportive of her, but out of compassion. It wasn’t hatred she felt towards her, but frustration, and she only wished that Cecelia had trusted her and told her, told anybody, before now, so that she didn’t have to suffer through such a horrid feeling alone. “I’m proud of you,” she said with conviction.

Cecelia’s eyes shot up, wide and unblinking, tears beginning to line her bottom lashes. She could see that she meant it, each and every word, and she couldn’t keep the tears from falling once they’d begun.

“You have an elegance that most can only dream of and your technique is flawless,” Rosa continued. “The only reason you haven’t won is because you’re overthinking it.” She looked back down at Harry, remembering all that he’d taught her, and hoped that he was going to be all right. She didn’t know what she’d do without him. “I should go and wait in the lobby for the medics so I can bring them straight here,” she said. “Will you be okay staying with him?”

Cecelia nodded and watched as she made her way across the room. “Rosa?” she said as she reached the door, catching her attention again. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“Nobody has a perfect life,” Rosa replied, peering back over her shoulder. “We all have things to deal with, but what matters is how we deal with it. We don’t always have to do it alone.” She gave Cecelia a reassuring smile and opened the door, turning back to her as she stepped through the doorway. “You don’t have to isolate yourself from the other skaters. We all share in the same hopes and dreams, and I’m sure if you spoke to them, they’d come to like you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cecelia promised, feeling, for the first time in her life, that she had somewhere where she’d be accepted, where she could be herself, whether she win or lose, and it was something that she was determined to hold onto for as long as she could. “Don’t let me keep you, go and wait for the ambulance. I’ll watch over Harry. And thank you, Rosa Kingsford. I truly mean that.”


	7. Tough Decisions

**Chapter 7: Tough Decisions**

“Do you remember building snow forts in the garden when we were little?” Dmitry said, leaning backwards over the edge of the bed so that the tips of his hair brushed against the carpet. “Mine was definitely the best.”

“Are you forgetting the massive snow castle I made for you when you were six?” Victor reminded him.

“That was nowhere near as good as the palace I made the year after,” his brother gasped, sitting up and placing his hand on his chest as he threw his head back melodramatically. “How dare you forget the beauty I created?”

Victor chuckled and folded his jacket, placing it on the back of the chair and glancing out of the hotel window as his memories became alight. There were so many of them, so much happiness and joy, but after a while his father managed to invade each and every one of them, turning those moments of joy into disapproval and reprimands until he was left feeling disappointed again.

His phone beeped and he quickly reached across the bed to grab it, flicking through the numerous messages and heaving a sigh as his eyes skimmed each one in turn. He didn’t want to let his sorrow show, he didn’t want Dmitry to see it, but his reaction was automatic; his amused grin dimmed and his laughter abruptly stopped, and he could feel his brother’s eyes on him. _You can_ _’t keep this from him,_ he told himself, turning around for a moment so that Dmitry couldn’t see his downcast expression. As much as he was determined not to let his protective nature get between them, as much as he wanted to keep his promise, he didn’t want him to see him upset; he wanted to be able to laugh with him, to smile with him and remember the happier times they had together, to keep him close and never let anything drive him away again. _The happier he is, the more likely he is to stay. I don_ _’t want him to leave again._

“It’s him, isn’t it,” Dmitry said, the uplifting tone in his voice gone and the bright spark in his expression slipping from his features as his brother turned back around again and nodded.

The older Nikiforov placed his phone back down on the bedside table, refusing to reply to the numerous insistent messages; his father had made his stance on the situation clear, and Victor was not going to back down, so there was no point in arguing with him about it. It would only cause him even more heartbreak.

“He’s been doing that more and more recently. Why?” Dmitry asked, giving his brother his undivided attention. He could see that there was something he was hiding from him, yet another adversity he was trying and failing to shield him from, but surprisingly to him, he didn’t feel angry about it or frustrated; all he felt in the pit of his stomach was the nauseating sense that Victor was trying to fight it alone.

“I don’t know,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders and turning away from him so that he couldn’t see the deceit shining in his eyes. If they had to be dragged back to that dark place in their lives, he would rather protect Dmitry from it as much as he could and face the consequences later, regardless of any promises he’d made.

“I’m not stupid, Vitya, I know that something has happened.”

Victor ran his hand through his hair and turned to face his younger sibling, knowing that he couldn’t lie to him, not anymore; this wasn’t something that he could run from, or hide from and forget about, and Dmitry was as much a part of it as he was. Lying to him was pointless, and it would only create a rift between them. Their father had done enough in trying to split them up and destroy the bond they had, and he would be damned if he was going to let it happen again. “He turned up at the airport,” he sighed, sitting himself down on the edge of the bed, “but I sorted everything out… sort of. I made my stance clear and he isn’t happy with it, but it’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Dmitry shook his head and got to his feet, hurt that his brother would hide something like this from him. He thought that there was trust between them, that no secrets were withheld and their fights were fought together, but he was quickly coming to realise that maybe that wasn’t the case at all. “Nothing to worry about?” he all but squeaked in disbelief.

“Yes,” Victor insisted. “I kept you away from him at the airport so that you wouldn’t have to listen to his vile hatred. You were forced from your home, from the people you loved once, and I won’t let it happen again.” He swallowed down the apprehension rising in his throat, the thought of Dmitry leaving again heightening his fear and allowing his worries to surge through him in uncontrollable waves.

“That’s not what I’m hurt by.”

Victor glanced up at his brother, his brow furrowed and his eyes following him as he made his way over to the other side of the room.

“I’m hurt because we are supposed to fight together,” the younger Nikiforov said with as much conviction as he could muster. “What happened to ‘we don’t have to fight alone’? Whatever you face, I face too. We are supposed to support each other, help each other, encourage each other. I spent too long not being there for you, too long letting you fight both of our battles alone, and that isn’t what brothers should do. We should stand side by side and face whatever adversities are thrown our way together.”

“We will always stand together, now more than ever,” Victor assured him, getting up and placing his hands on his brother’s arms in solidarity, “but I will not let you be subjected to even more hatred from that man. I care about you too much to ever let that happen.” He smiled sadly and embraced him, a guilty feeling rising in his heart for not having told his brother about the airport situation sooner; he had a right to know, a right to be a part of it if he wanted to be. He wasn’t a child but a grown man, and Victor couldn’t protect him as much anymore.  “But you’re right,” he said as he drew back. “We’re brothers and we were both victims of that horrid man. If we have to fight, we should fight together. I’m sorry, Dimka.”

“Don’t apologise,” Dmitry said, clapping his brother on his arm supportively and giving him a small, reassuring smile. “Just tell me the next time something happens. That’s all I ask.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure? I only thought that… well, you know…” Logan let out a gentle sigh and looked Freddie in the eyes, seeing the years of support and trust in them as the taller man slowly nodded. “Our bodies won’t hold up for much longer, and I’d rather we bow out now when we can, rather than be forced to give it all up because of an injury. This way it will be on our terms.”

Freddie wiped the tears from his eyes and took in a deep breath, tenderly raking his fingers through his skating partner’s hair and resting his hand on his cheek. “I’ve been thinking the same thing for a while now, but whatever we decide, we do it together. We came into the sport as a pair, and if we’re to leave, we leave it together.” He dragged him in for a tight embrace and tried not to think too much about retiring, but if this really was it, if they were going to leave competitive skating for good, he wanted to make his last performance the best he could possibly make it. “We’ve had fun though, haven’t we?”

“Of course we have,” Logan breathed as he stepped back from the almost crushing hug, resting his hand on Freddie’s cheek and letting his fingers brush the tips of his light brown curls. “And we will continue to have fun. Just because we’re not skating, that doesn’t mean we can’t be involved. We could go into teaching, or we could coach. We have the rest of our lives ahead of us, and even if we do stop competing, I still want to be involved somehow.” He glanced around the almost empty lobby, the receptionists busy at work and a few of the guests scattered around the hall, too preoccupied with their own conversations to notice them. “We’ll make a decision before the World Championships, and if it’s going to be our last skate, we can make sure we end on a high note.”

There was a series of quick footsteps as Nina and Chris bolted down the stairs, the former laughing at the top of her lungs and lightly pushing at the latter as he caught up with her, earning themselves a few stares from the lobby’s occupants.

“Here comes trouble,” Logan whispered in jest as the two approached them, Chris giving them his customary charming smile and Nina looking between them both, brushing a stray dark strand from in front of her light brown eyes.

“I hope those are happy tears,” she said, pointing at Freddie and raising her eyebrows.

“Yes and no,” he replied, “but I won’t say anything just yet.” He peered over his shoulder at the clock ticking away on the wall and checked his phone, patting Logan’s arm and taking a step back. “We’d better get going. The interview is at four.”

Logan looked down at his watch and nodded, having not realised the time and instantly jumping into action. “We’ll see you both later,” he promised as he hurried after Freddie, leaving the younger skaters to the silence of the lobby.

“Whatever it is, I hope they tell Rosa before gossip starts to spread,” Nina said, wondering what the pair skaters were planning. “She and Freddie are practically joined at the hip.”

“You almost sound jealous,” Chris commented, sipping at the coffee in his travel mug and leaning his hip against the elaborately carved column.

“Oh you would say that. I bet it was the same when Victor left to coach Yuri.”

Chris shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. “I may have been a little jealous, this is Victor we’re talking about, but I grew used to it. The world doesn’t stay the same for long.”

 

* * *

 

Queenie let out a small bark as her paws pattered along the path, the spring breeze catching her ears and tickling at her nose. It was a refreshing change to the heat they’d had to endure over the past couple of days, the gentle wind and the previous night’s rainfall giving the scorched land a needed reprieve and spreading relief from the relentless warmth. 

“What is it, Queenie?” Rosa cooed, glancing down at the small dog and wondering what had caught her attention, the lead tensing as she rushed forwards and sniffed at a patch of grass. A growl sat on her tongue, and seconds later a butterfly emerged from the vegetation, the spaniel jumping up and trying to catch it with her paws and her teeth.

“You can’t eat it,” Rosa chuckled, reaching down to pet her and keep her from consuming the insect, “it’s a butterfly. They’re not for eating.”

Up ahead, Makkachin bounded from tree to tree, sniffing at each in turn and waiting for his masters to catch up with him, and Queenie’s dark brown eyes instantly shifted to the poodle. She let out a playful yap and pulled at the lead, yapping again to get Rosa’s attention.

“Okay, okay,” her owner said, unclasping the lead, “but you have to play nicely.” She watched as Queenie ran to Makkachin, sniffing at his face and bounding around the park with him in playful sprints and jumps.

“And I thought Makkachin could be sprightly,” Yuri jested, shoving his hands into his pockets as the cool breeze turned bitter and tingled against his warm skin.

“She’s always been like that. Never misses a beat.”

“Like her owner.”

Rosa chuckled, unwinding the lead and settling it around her wrist as they walked through the park, her eyes on Dmitry and Victor as they played with the dogs. It was difficult to believe that they’d been separated for four years, their almost identical laughter rising into the air as the canines rolled in mud and shook the dirt from their fur. “Have you settled on a date for the wedding yet?” she asked.

“We’ll be getting married in December,” Yuri replied, resisting the urge to laugh as Makkachin shook water and mud all over Victor, Dmitry standing behind him to avoid the brunt of it. “You will come, won’t you?”

“Of course I will. Just you try and stop me.”

Yuri let out a gentle laugh, a smile settling on his lips; despite feeling a little nervous about it, he couldn’t wait to get married. All they needed to do was sort through the formalities, and then he could proudly declare that Victor Nikiforov was his husband.

“How’s Harry doing?” he inquired.

“Tests are being done, but we won’t know what it is until the results come back.” Rosa looked down at the ground and let out a short breath, trying not to worry, but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that Harry was seriously ill. He’d always been so strong, standing by her even when he was sick and fighting through it, but this time it was different; he could barely get out of bed, and most of the time he was sleeping, any strength he had sapped away and leaving him feeling constantly exhausted. “I know it won’t be anything good.”

Yuri placed his hand on her back in comfort and wished he knew what to say to make her feel better, but there was nothing he could say or do to help her, other than offer her his support.

“But he’s a fighter,” Rosa said as confidently as she could manage. “He won’t let it stop him, whatever it is.”

A loud bark shot through the air and the two turned back to the antics ahead of them, Makkachin pawing at a tree and growling at a squirrel as it teased him from one of the lower branches. Queenie was quick to see that her friend was agitated and joined him, skittering about and adding her little yaps to his frustrated barks, but the larger dog soon turned his attention back to his master, bounding over to him and almost knocking him off his feet.

“Now, now, Makkachin,” Yuri chuckled as he and Rosa caught up to them. “Don’t go knocking Victor off his feet.”

“Exactly,” Victor agreed, crouching down to pet the poodle and grinning as the affectionate dog licked his hand. “That is Yuri’s job.”

Yuri’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red and his hands flew up to cover his face, his embarrassed mumbles muffled by his fingers.

“Careful, Vitya,” Dmitry laughed. “We don’t want my future brother-in-law spontaneously combusting now, do we.”

 

* * *

 

The dancers spun in perfect unison to the gentle notes floating through the ballroom, each duo moving in time with the beat and keeping to the soft rhythm of the music.

Every skater and their coach had been invited to the ball held in their honour, banners wishing them luck in the World Championships strewn across the walls and glowing in holographic lights behind the orchestra. 

Victor had never felt more relaxed than when he was at a party, surrounded by the people who meant the most to him, and in a capacity where they could all have some fun before the competition started. Everybody was smiling and laughing, enjoying each other’s company and making the most of the serene atmosphere before the stresses of the upcoming skate took over.

Across the other side of the room, he spotted Freddie and Logan speaking to Rosa, tears in the young woman’s eyes as she stood on her tiptoes to embrace her cousin. He had his suspicions as to what had upset her, and they were all but confirmed when Freddie glanced at his partner to give him a reassuring look, but it was a part of their world, and something that none of them could escape.

He felt a gentle brush of fingertips against his hand and didn’t need to look down to see who it was, his fingers instinctively curling and his lips spreading into a grin.

“You look so contemplative, stood here on your own,” Yuri commented, placing his free hand on Victor’s shoulder and looking across the expanse of skaters and coaches. “Makes me wonder what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking of how lucky I am,” Victor replied, winding his arm around Yuri’s waist and holding him a little closer. “I have all of these friends, all of these wonderful people to count amongst my family.” He glanced down at the love of his life, his sweet Yuri, and brushed the tip of his nose against his. “But most of all I’m thinking about how lucky I am to have you.”

Yuri couldn’t help but smile, his customary blush creeping into his cheeks as Victor raised his hand and placed it on his chest, the calming beats of his heart playing a soothing rhythm against his fingertips. “I think we’re both pretty lucky,” he whispered, “in more ways than one.”

A round of applause ran around the room as the orchestra finished their piece and began a new one, the notes gentle and slow, and played in perfect harmony.

“Want to dance?” Victor asked, stepping forwards and holding his hands out to Yuri. He led them both onto the dancefloor once his offer had been bashfully accepted, and settled them into a steady sway, admiring his fiancé and slipping his hands a little further around his waist.

“I’ve been thinking,” Yuri said, “about the wedding… We should get married in Barcelona. It’s where we got engaged, it was your first Grand Prix as my coach, and we have so many happy memories there. I thought it would be nice to add another one.”

Victor became so immersed in Yuri’s vision of their wedding that the thought of anything else vanished entirely, his mind fixated on the blessed day when he would pledge his life to the man he loved. “That sounds perfect,” he breathed, unable to stop the beam from spreading across his lips. “The perfect place for a perfect wedding.”

 

As the night progressed, some of the skaters, and numerous coaches, succumbed to their inebriated states and stumbled out of the ballroom in search of their hotel rooms, leaving just a handful of attendees left by the time midnight struck.

Victor breathed out heavily and stretched his back, his body beginning to ache after a night of dancing and party-themed antics. He looked around as he stretched his arms and spotted Freddie, his hip pressed against the wall and his eyes fixated on Logan as he lifted Rosa onto his shoulders.

“It seems the night hasn’t claimed all of the fun,” the Russian skater said, settling his back against the wall beside the Englishman.

“If my partner and my cousin know anything, it’s how to have a good time,” Freddie chuckled. “They should probably have gone to bed hours ago, but I don’t have the heart to spoil their fun.”

Victor chortled with him and crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes finding the last two people on the dancefloor as Logan carefully returned Rosa to the ground. “The skating world isn’t going to be the same without you both,” he said sincerely.

“You never miss a thing, do you?” Freddie gave a short laugh and sipped at his drink, watching as Victor shook his head and offered him an encouraging smile in response. “It’ll be odd, but it’s the right thing to do, for both of us. We’re not getting any younger and we want our retirement to be on our terms, not that of injury or scandal.”

Victor clapped him on his shoulder in comfort and support, knowing all too well the consequences of their world; it was difficult for most skaters to have to retire from what they loved, but it was something that they all went through at some stage, something that, no matter what happened on the ice, they would all share in eventually. It was the inevitable curse, unavoidable and heartbreaking, but necessary for their world to move on. “It won’t be easy, but if this is the best thing for yourself and Logan, then you must do what feels right, no matter how heartbreaking it may feel.”

Freddie appreciated his words and gave him a grateful smile, patting his hand and trying his best to remain optimistic about his upcoming retirement. “It is going to be rather upsetting,” he replied, “but it doesn’t mean we have to give up skating for good.”


	8. Collision

**Chapter 8: Collision**

The whole arena fell silent as the two skaters made their final entrance onto the ice, the audience’s eyes fixed on the spotlight as it began to travel with the sound of the first melodious beats. The skim of their skates shifted around the rink as they glided, keeping to the gentle introductory rhythm. Their choreography was flawless, showcasing their strengths and highlighting the progress of their work, the audience completely enthralled by them as they spun, and leapt, and danced.

“They’ll be retiring after this,” Rosa said sadly to Dmitry, her eyes following her cousin as he span and reached out to Logan, his movements so graceful and so thoughtful that it almost made her envious. “This will be their last competition.” She glanced down at her entwined fingers and tried to be optimistic, to remind herself that Freddie and Logan were doing this because it was right for them, but she couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened. It had always been the three of them on the same ice for as long as she could remember, and come the next competition, it would be odd not having them there with her. “I remember training with them when I was little,” she mused, her attention shifting back to the dancers on the ice. “When I fell they never teased me, never called me names. They simply picked me back up and held onto me until I was steady again.” She took in a deep breath in an attempt to curb the tears, but a few fell against her will. She wiped them away and swallowed down the rising lump in her throat, keeping her light green eyes fixed on the performance below. “It’s going to be strange not seeing them compete again.”

Dmitry could see that she was struggling to come to terms with her cousin’s retirement, and in support he reached across and took hold of her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “They will still come to see you skate,” he assured her, “and they’ll be there during your training sessions. They won’t stop supporting you just because they’re not skating anymore.”

“I know,” Rosa replied. “It’s just going to be odd not sharing the rink with them during competitions.”

“They could always go into coaching,” Yuri said, peering around Victor and Dmitry to offer her a few words of comfort. “They don’t have to leave the sport.”

“They’d be brilliant teachers,” Victor added with a grin. “They’re patient, they’re committed, and they’re good at what they do.”

Yuri glanced over to his fiancé and nodded in agreement. “It’s what I’d like to do when I retire. I’ve dedicated too much of my life to give it up completely.”

Rosa thanked him with a small smile and turned back to the skaters as the music reached its final, dramatic crescendo, Freddie and Logan performing their final few jumps before they finished in the centre of the rink, enveloped in each other’s arms. “Well, if they do turn to coaching, whoever they coach will be the luckiest person in the world.”

 

* * *

 

Nina bit her lip as she swung her legs from the railing, glancing around at the other skaters in the hotel lobby as they prepared to go to dinner together. They merry assembly made more than a spectacle for the other guests to watch and whisper about, almost every competitor gathered in the entrance hall in their expensive finery and their glowing jewels.

“I’m looking forward to the skate tomorrow,” Phichit chirped, tapping away at his phone and taking multiple selfies in front of one of the lobby’s many statues.

“I wish I could say the same,” Yuri breathed, wringing his hands as he patiently waited for the coaches to give them the go ahead to enter the restaurant for dinner. His eyes skimmed the familiar faces around him, and he realised that a few were missing. “Where are Rosa and Dmitry?” he asked, narrowing his eyebrows when he couldn’t locate the pair.

Nina let out a sorrowful breath and glanced down at her feet as they moved back and forth again. “They’ve gone to see Harry,” she replied, “but she promised she’d be back for dinner. He insisted that she didn’t miss it.”

“How is he doing?” Phichit inquired, leaning back against the railing once he’d finished taking the pictures and looking up at the dark-haired woman.

“It’s not looking good. He’s told Rosa that he won’t be able to coach her for the championships, but Freddie and Logan have agreed to step in and act as her coach until they know more.” Nina picked at her nails and wished she knew what she could do; Harry was seriously ill, Rosa was heartbroken, and herself, Freddie, Logan and Dmitry were left to pick up the pieces. She wished that there was something she could do or say to make everything better, to support her friend in her troubling time, but there was nothing she could do. All they could do was wait and hope. “It’s sad really. He was an Olympic skater, won numerous gold medals, and now he may have to leave the rink for good.”

“The doctors will help him,” Phichit said confidently, patting Nina’s arm and giving her a reassuring smile. He could see that she was saddened by the recent events, that she could only stand and watch as her friend’s world slowly began to crumble around her, but she was strong, and so was Rosa, and he had every certainty that they would both be all right in the end. “I’m sure they will.”

“I hope so.” Nina put her hand on his shoulder, glad in her heart to have such supportive people around her. With a sigh she jumped down from the railing and took her phone from her pocket, typing as quickly as she could. A matter of moments later, the device beeped, her eyes scanning the screen. “Rosa and Dmitry will be joining us in a minute,” she muttered, giving the lobby a cursory glance. “That just leaves Victor, Yurio and Otabek, and we should be good to go. At this rate we won’t be having dinner until midnight.”

 

* * *

 

“It was disgusting,” Yurio said, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as he and Otabek made their way down the streets of Milan. The air was alive with the sound of car horns and angry yelling from the drivers, the traffic stretching back up the road as far as the eye could see. “It took all my strength not to scream.”

Otabek glanced down at Yurio and noticed that despite his angered words, he was still completely focused, his bright eyes cast on the street ahead and his concentration shining in the pools of blue. “You look very focused,” he commented, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows when Yurio turned to look at him, the concentration softening and a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

“That’s because I am,” Yurio told him, a pickup in the evening breeze rustling the loose strands of his bun. “I won’t lose the championships. That gold is mine.”

“I have every faith you will get another gold,” Otabek chuckled in certainty, knowing all too well that Yurio was going to go out there tomorrow fighting for that top spot; he never would let anything get in the way of his ambitions.

It still seemed a little odd to hear Otabek laugh, especially since he kept such a cold demeanour around the other skaters, but Yurio loved the sound; the rough edge, the amusement ringing in every chortle, and the smile on his face as he let his laughter free never failed to remind him how lucky he was to have him. Over the past couple of years they’d both grown closer, speaking to each other on the phone when they were apart, and spending as much time as they could together when they were competing. He finally felt like he had someone he could talk to without being spoken to like a child, someone he could connect with and have fun with outside of skating. There would be times when there were lulls in their conversations, but it was in those moments that he got to learn a little bit more about him through his movements, in the way he carefully watched life around them or the pitter-patter of his fingers against his knee when he was thinking about something.

“I will,” he agreed, pulling his jacket a little tighter around his shoulders as a blast of wind whistled down the street, momentarily blocking out the noise of the car horns and the exchange of angered Italian words. “And I’m sure that you will place too. I want you stood next to me on that podium.”

Otabek’s grin grew and his eyes shifted from the pileup of vehicles to the blond, his hand finding his arm. “It would be nice,” he admitted, “but whatever happens tomorrow, we should both be proud of what we have achieved.”

Yurio was about to reply when the blast of a horn shot into the air, the two stopping dead in their track and their eyes drawn to the commotion up ahead as a car screeched in an attempt to halt. The loud crash broke through the wail of horns and the furious voices, and seconds later the air became engulfed by flames and smoke.

 

* * *

 

By the time Victor had left the jewellers, he’d almost grown accustomed to the wailing car horns and exchange of angered yells, the sound reaching every shop on the high street and bursting through the walls. But it didn’t shake his enthusiasm, for he was in possession of something special, something that he knew would make Yuri smile. He could feel the velvet box in his coat pocket, pressing against his chest, and he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel to present it to his beloved fiancé. _Remember to have tissues on standby,_ he thought to himself. _He may cry._

He’d had the idea for months, designing the delicate piece himself and speaking on the phone to Milan’s top jewellers, and now he had it in his pocket, ready for Yuri. All he needed to do now was get back to him.

He chuckled to himself and slipped his hands into his pockets to keep away the chill, the air beginning to grow cold now that evening was settling in. The sun was disappearing slowly behind the bustling city, and it took the day’s warmth with it. 

He was snapped out of his musings when a buzzing from his coat pocket rattled against his chest, the device sounding seconds later. He fished it out and answered it, holding it up to his ear as he walked through the busy high street. “What’s the matter, Dmitry?”

_“Where are you?”_ his brother asked. _“We’ll be going in for dinner soon.”_

“I’m on my way. I won’t be long now.”

_“But where have you been? I haven’t seen you all day.”_

“I’ve been on a little shopping trip.”

_“Did I just hear you describe a shopping trip as ‘little’?”_

Victor let out a short laugh and gently shook his head. “For me it has been a little shopping trip.”

_“Wonder will never cease.”_

“You always have been sarcastic, Dimka,” Victor sighed, the smile on his lips growing as he spotted the hotel peeking over the smaller buildings in front of it.

_“Well, that isn’t likely to change any time soon. Once a sarcastic little shit, always a sarcastic little shit,”_ the younger laughed. _“I’d hurry up if I were you. The coaches are getting ready to go.”_

“All right, all right. I’m almost there. I’ll be twenty minutes at the most.” Once he’d bid his brother a quick farewell, he placed his phone back into his pocket and picked up the pace. Luckily he was suitably dressed for dinner so he wouldn’t have to get changed, and he could give Yuri his present afterwards, when they were alone.

A car horn blared over the din of yells and purring engines, a screech following moments later as a car at the end of the road collided with a truck. A rush of fire hurtled across the street, reaching for the crowd and the shops behind them, and Victor didn’t have time to move.


	9. Something Worth Fighting For

**Chapter 9: Something worth Fighting For**

Yuri tapped his foot on the marble floor and bit his lip, trying his best to calm his anxiety, but with Victor still missing and all attempts to contact him being left unanswered, it was difficult to do anything but worry. “Where is he?” he muttered. “He should be here by now.”

“He shouldn’t be much longer,” Chris assured him, braiding Rosa’s hair as she smoothed down her dress. “Honey, you’re going to have to stay still if you want this neat.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, ceasing in her fussing and glancing at Yuri. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”

“Well, he’d better hurry up,” Dmitry grumbled, shoving his hands into his blazer pockets as the lobby door was opened again, letting in the chilly air from outside. For a moment he swore he could smell smoke, but the scent quickly vanished and the thought disappeared with it. “Celestino said that we’d be going in for dinner in twenty minutes.”

“He probably just got caught up. He’s Victor Nikiforov. He can look after himself.” Once Chris had finished with her hair, Rosa glanced into the ornate mirror and nodded, giving him a grateful smile in lending her his expertise. She’d bolted into the lobby after visiting Harry, her hair askew and her makeup running, but thanks to Chris and his innate calm regarding aesthetic beauty, she now looked like a true lady.

Yuri hoped that she was right, but as time went on, his worry only grew. “Maybe I should ring him again? It’s been half an hour and we haven’t heard anything from him. He wasn’t that far away, was he?”

Dmitry shrugged. “By the sounds of it he’d been to the high street for something, so I…” His gaze trailed around the room and fell on the door, his eyes going wide as he spotted his brother, propped up between Yurio and Otabek. “Victor?” He rushed over to them and took his brother’s weight from the two younger skaters, looking over the scorch marks on his coat and his face, and the speckles of blood on his cheeks. “What happened?”

“There was a car crash,” Otabek explained, removing Victor’s arm from around his shoulder once Dmitry had hold of him. “Yura and I were on the other side of the road so we were lucky enough to miss the fire, but Victor got caught in a bit of it.”

Yuri placed his hands on Victor’s cheeks, the heat of the fire still dancing across his skin and his eyes wide and frightened. “It’s okay, Victor,” he said soothingly, rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs.

“I’m fine,” the shaken man mumbled, his voice quivering and crackling as he struggled to speak with a sore throat and a dry mouth. “It just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

Rosa, Chris and Nina exchanged a subtle, unsure glance, seeing that Victor was clearly shaken by what he’d experienced, his petrified expression enough to tell them as much if the blackened marks and tears in his clothes weren’t enough to go by.

“Perhaps you should go and lie down?” Rosa suggested, noticing that Dmitry was trembling and laying a supportive hand on his arm. “I’m sure we’d be able to bring you something to eat.”

“No,” Victor replied without hesitation, shaking his head. “I’m all right. This dinner is important.”

“Not as important as your health, Victor,” Chris reminded him, seeing that there was something his best friend wasn’t telling them; he seemed to forget that Chris knew him well, that he was accustomed to the certain words he used when he was angry or frightened, or the mannerisms he adopted when trying to communicate, and what he saw before him was a frightened man who was yet to come to terms with what he’d just been through.

Yuri swallowed down the lump in his throat and tried to remain calm for Victor’s sake, but when he spotted the wide cut on his arm, leaking down his torn sleeve, his eyes went wide and he had to take a moment to breathe. “You’re bleeding,” he squeaked, his eyes drawn to the red wound staining his ripped shirt.

“I’m fine,” Victor insisted. “I was caught by some of the debris, but I’m fine.”

It was at that moment that Yuri’s stubborn nature made a rare appearance, the tears in his eyes slipping free and his breathing becoming laboured as he turned to the others. “Why don’t you all go in for dinner?” he said as calmly as he could manage, wiping his eyes. “Victor and I will join you when I’ve cleaned him up.”

“Yuri, please, I’m absolutely-”

“No,” Yuri cried, turning back around to face his fiancé and shaking his head in downright refusal to believe him. “Victor, you’ve just been involved in a horrifying incident, and I’m going to look after you.” He took a step forwards, placing one hand on his chest and the other in his silver hair, soothingly stroking the soft strands. “It’s okay to admit that you’re scared,” he whispered to him, hating to see him hiding his pain, and from him of all people. Over the years they’d built a strong trust between them, nurtured it over time, and to see Victor hiding his suffering broke his heart. It made him wonder whether all of that time they’d spent building that mutual trust had been for nothing if he was so eager to lie to him now.

Victor looked him in the eyes, tears forming and dropping just as quickly as they’d been created, and slowly nodded, giving him the subtle sign that he wasn’t all right, that he was in pain, that he was scared, and that he wanted Yuri to help him.

“We’ll go in for dinner,” Nina said, ushering the others towards the dining room. “Take as much time as you need.”

 

Yuri led Victor back to their room, supporting him all the way, and once inside, he gathered the materials from his first aid kit and sat Victor down on the edge of the bed. “If anything hurts too much, I want you to tell me, okay?”

Victor nodded and let him remove his coat and his shirt, being careful in removing his left arm from his sleeves and trying not to wince as the wound tingled and painfully protested. “I’ll be okay,” he assured Yuri, noticing the worried look in his eyes as he sat down and dipped the square cloth in a bowl of water.

“I know you will.” Yuri gently cleaned around the wound, and watched his reactions for any flinches or cringes as he moved a little closer to the tear in his skin. “Are you sure hospital is out of the question?”

“I told you on the way up here, it’s just a cut. They’ll only bandage it and send me back here, and you’re more than capable, so there’s no point. Besides, I don’t want to miss dinner.”

Yuri gave him a small smile, agreeing not to send him to the hospital, but if it got any worse he’d have no choice; he wouldn’t let him suffer. “I’m going to have to clean the cut, and it’s probably going to hurt, so I’m apologising in advance.” Once he’d gotten a nod of acknowledgment from him, he moved the linen directly onto the wound and cleaned it as quickly as he could, gently dabbing the rising splotches of red and seeing the extent of the rip in his arm. “Sorry,” he muttered apologetically when Victor flinched, his bottom lip worried between his teeth as he tried to remain still. “I’m almost done.” Yuri finished cleaning what he could of the wound, applying the antiseptic cream and winding the long bandage around his arm. Once it was secure, he tidied the first aid kit away and got some fresh cloth and water to clean away the soot and ash sticking to his face. “Where are your shopping bags? Dmitry said you’d been shopping.”

Victor reached into his pocket and took out the blue velvet box, presenting it to his fiancé with a sheepish grin. “This was all I got.” He watched as Yuri put down the cloth and dried his hands on the towel before taking the box and opening it, his eyes going wide at the sight of the contents within. “I had it designed especially for you. Think of it as an early wedding present.”

Yuri took the tiny diamond skates out of the box, his eyes trailing each bright glint and twinkle. As he admired it, he noticed the two golden rings around the laces, his hand flying to his mouth and tears slipping down his cheeks, and when he turned it over to look at the blades, he realised that their names had been engraved onto them.

Victor was quick with the tissues and gently dabbed at Yuri’s cheeks to dry them. “I was thinking that we could put it in front of our medals, a sort of reminder when we get old of our time together.”

“Thank you,” Yuri breathed, carefully placing the box and the diamond skates onto the bedside table before wrapping his arms around Victor’s shoulders. “It’s beautiful, but you really didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”

“Of course I did,” Victor replied, resting his head on his fiancé’s shoulder. “You are my sweet Yuri, and I will do anything for you.”

 

* * *

 

Each and every skater and coach in attendance during the dinner spent as much time as they could sampling the delicacies of Milan, and by the time that dessert was served, they were more than full.

“I don’t know if I can touch another bite,” Dmitry groaned, holding his stomach and lying his head down on the table; he felt like he was going to explode.

“I can,” Rosa enthused, taking a mouthful of lemon gelato and instantly regretting it as the cold nipped and her mouth and gave her brain freeze.

Dmitry laughed at the cringe that spread across her features, but it didn’t deter her for long, and after a few second and a shake of her head, she took another mouthful. “You’re not going to be able to eat it all if you keep doing that,” he chuckled.

Victor watched as the young woman bit back another cringe in order to prove to his brother that she could handle it, laughing with those around them as she finished it off and mischievously stuck her tongue out at him. And then he felt it. At first it was just a skipped beat of his heart, a warm flush washing over him, but then he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Getting to his feet, he quickly excused himself from the table and made his way out onto the veranda, letting the cool air soothe him. He knew that it was just a little bit of panic and that given a few minutes it would alleviate, but that didn’t make it any better; he still felt like he was going to break.

He heard footsteps approaching him, and a shock of long, blond hair caught the corner of his vision. “The gardens here are pretty, aren’t they?” he mused.

“Cut the bullshit, Victor,” Yurio sighed, turning to face him and refusing to speak again until he had his undivided attention. “I know you’re not okay, and don’t even think about lying to me.”

Victor let out a short breath and leant back against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing down at the decking beneath his feet. “I’m just a little shaken by what I saw, that’s all.”

“Which is fine,” Yurio replied with a singular nod, “but why are you hiding it? Especially from piggy? I heard you tell him that you were okay now, but you’re not, are you?” He knew for a fact that Victor was putting on an act, he didn’t really need to ask, but he could see that it made him think about what he was doing by lying to those he loved.

“I don’t want to worry him,” Victor said quietly, glancing through the window at Yuri as he laughed heartily with the other skaters. “And I won’t. He’s already nervous about tomorrow and I don’t want to make it worse.”

Yurio turned to the railing and stuck his hands in his blazer pockets, his eyes skimming the olive trees and the plants just beginning to bloom again, their colour scattered amongst the greenery. “Will you be okay to skate tomorrow?”

“Of course I will,” Victor laughed melodiously. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’ve had experiences with shock before, I know what it’s like.” Yurio swallowed and kicked aimlessly at a small stone by his shoe, watching it skitter and fall off the edge of the veranda. “A few years ago I got home to find my grandfather unconscious on the floor, and I was fine at first. I rung the hospital and helped them get him into the ambulance, but a few hours later, when I was sat in the waiting room, I felt myself starting to shake. I didn’t understand what was going on until one of the nurses found me and explained why I was shaking. It only took me a few days to get back to normal again, but I’ll never forget it.”

Victor listened intently and put his hands on Yurio’s shoulders in support. “I will be fine,” he assured him, chuckling under his breath. “I’m surprised you’re so worried about me.”

“Don’t think I’m going soft on you,” Yurio scoffed, narrowing his eyes at him and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m still going to kick your backside tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

The hotel had never been so busy, the spectators, the skaters, the coaches and many of the supporters all gathered in the lobby to wish the athletes luck in the arduous day ahead. Every mind was focused, every routine learnt, and now it was time to show the world what they could do in the most important competition of the skating season.

Yuri breathed out heavily and felt his heartbeat begin to return to its usual gentle rhythm. He wouldn’t let his anxiety get the better of him, not today. _Make your family proud,_ he told himself. _Make Victor proud. Make the whole of Japan proud. You can do this._

Victor carefully stretched his arms above his head, the bandages hidden by his outfit but the wound beneath still troubling him. _You_ _’re okay,_ he assured himself as he bit his lip and exhaled heavily. _It will all be okay. Do it for Yuri and for Dmitry. You can do this._

Rosa held her head high as she looked around the crammed room, her eyes eventually finding her stand-in coaches. The way that Freddie smiled at her reminded her of the early days of her career, when she’d stumble, and fall, and lose; she recalled the first competition she’d lost, the tears that had followed, and the warm embrace that Freddie had given her before telling her that he was proud of her no matter what she did. _They_ _’re proud of you. Freddie, Logan, Aunt Emily, Dmitry… they’re all proud. Now prove that that faith isn’t for nothing. You can do this._

Yurio tried to avoid the screams of his fans as they were told to move away from the skaters, teddy bears and flowers being thrown past the security guards to reach him. His eyes caught Otabek’s and he gave him a discreet thumbs up, the gesture quickly returned with a small smile. _You_ _’re going to win this,_ he thought confidently. _You have Otabek, your grandfather, a skating family around you. Show everyone what you_ _’re capable of. You can do this._

Each and every skater had something personal to them, something to drive them, something in their lives worth fighting for, those thoughts going round and round in their minds as they left the hotel in what was set to be the closest fight of their lives.


	10. The Snows of Winter

**Chapter 10: The Snows of Winter**

Yuri paced the width of the corridor, turning back once he’d reached the wall and biting at his nails as he panicked. He hadn’t done very well in his short skate, and he was worried that it would impact badly on his performance in the free skate. If he didn’t exceed the judges’ expectations of him, he could kiss goodbye to that gold medal. 

“You’ll be okay,” Dmitry promised him, watching him as he nervously paced and wondering what Victor usually did to calm him before a performance. “You’re going to be brilliant. I’m certain of it. Keep your dreams in your sights, and the dance will come naturally.”

Yuri wished that he could believe him, wished that he could smile and take his words for the kind gesture that they were, but his anxiety wouldn’t let him. “Thank you,” he said quietly, giving Dmitry a grateful smile and halting by the opposite wall. “If you see Rosa, congratulate her on her score for me.”

“Of course I will,” Dmitry promised, taking the few steps towards him and supportively clapping him on his shoulder. “I’ll leave you to do your stretches, but remember that everybody is here to cheer you on. All you have to do is go out there and blow them away.” He patted his arm and made his way back down the corridor, disappearing around the corner and leaving Yuri in silence.

In all honesty, he didn’t think it was silence or solace he needed, but he couldn’t stop time to give himself a moment to breathe. No matter how panicked he became, no matter how much his anxieties tormented him, he had to do this. He was going to skate for his life. He was going to do his best. _Maybe even win,_ he thought, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips at the thought of standing on the tallest of the three podiums, a brand new gold medal around his neck and a bouquet of flowers in his arms. All he needed now was Victor, but he was nowhere to be seen. He’d spoken to him after the short skate, but he’d dashed off after receiving his results at the kiss and cry, and he hadn’t seen him since.

“He can’t be far,” he muttered to himself, glancing down the corridor and wondering where he could be.

With a sigh, he began to do a few of his warm-up stretches, hoping that it would calm the flurried influx of thoughts shooting through his mind, but it failed to alleviate the worry. Victor had never been absent before a performance, he was always there, supporting him, encouraging him, waiting for him. Where was he? And why had he rushed off so quickly after his short skate? Maybe he wasn’t really as all right as he’d been saying he was and he’d gone back to the hotel?

He let out a sigh as he pressed his palms against the wall and pushed his hips back, breathing out slowly as he stretched his limbs, but he couldn’t concentrate on them for long, and in the end he let out an irritated sigh and took his phone from his pocket.

“Hey, Yuri!”

Yuri instantly stood to his full height and watched as Chris calmly made his way over to him, sweat dripping from his brow and a satisfied look on his face.

“You’d better hurry up,” he told him, gesturing back down the corridor. “It’s nearly your time to skate.”

Yuri glanced down at his phone, just one click away from phoning Victor, and turned back to Chris. He was right, he had to hurry up. He couldn’t be late. “Thanks, Chris,” he said, slipping past him and jogging down the corridor, hoping against hope that Victor would be back in time to see him skate.

 

As he stepped out onto the ice, he could feel the eyes of the audience on him, the silence stifling him until that blessed moment when the music began. The first spin gave him a brief look at the scale of the stadium again, and he let out a short breath to keep his composure. _First jump,_ he thought. _And_ _…_

Yuri leapt into the air and landed his triple axel perfectly, moving on to his next sequence with elegance and grace. He tried to look for Victor as he worked around the edges of the rink, but the lights had been dimmed and he couldn’t see much, the only illumination available to him being the spotlight that followed him as he skated.

_Next jump. Come on. You can do this. Just_ _…_

He landed his second jump with the slightest of wobbles but was quick to regain himself, holding his arms out as he entered the final stages of his routine. _He_ _’ll be here. Ignore the eyes of everyone else, you’ve already enthralled them. Find Victor. Find him and enthral him._

As he finished his routine, the audience leapt out of their seats, cheering and chanting his name, but Yuri didn’t see them. All he saw was the silver-haired man stood on the sidelines, applauding him and beaming from ear to ear. _He saw,_ he thought, his chest rapidly rising and falling as he sucked in each desperate breath. _He didn_ _’t miss it._

Within seconds of spotting Victor, Yuri was off, skating across the ice as fast as he could and leaping into his fiancé’s arms. “Did you see it?”

“I did, and I’m so proud.” Victor held Yuri for a few seconds longer before placing him back down on the ground, one hand on his face and the other threaded in his dark hair. “So, so proud.”

Yuri could feel the lump rise in his throat again, and unable to say a word, he wrapped his arms around him, holding him as close as he could and breathing a sigh of relief in the knowledge he’d seen him skate. “Where were you?” he asked, brushing his nose against his neck and revelling in the warmth he was giving him.

“I had to attend to a phone call, but I got here as you began to skate.” Victor’s grin grew as he drew back, and he tenderly pressed his lips to Yuri’s forehead. “We’d better get to the kiss and cry. Your scores are ready.”

 

* * *

 

Rosa fidgeted as she sat on the sidelines, her bright-eyed gaze on the floor and her thumbs dancing circles around each other while she tried to calm herself down. Her performance had earned her first place and another gold, she’d broken her own record again, and Dmitry, Freddie and Logan had stood by the railing, cheering her on, but it still hadn’t felt right, and she couldn’t shake the feeling. Someone was missing, someone who should have been there wasn’t, and it saddened her to think that she may have to get used to it.

“I’m sure Harry wanted to be here,” Freddie said soothingly, rubbing her back and seeing the forlorn look written all over her delicate features.

“He’d be incredibly proud,” Logan added, patting her knee supportively.

“I am.”

At the sound of the low, gravelly voice, the three turned in unison, spotting the brown-haired coach as he approached them, his blue eyes weary and his complexion pale.

“Harry,” Rosa squeaked, getting out of her seat and rushing over to him, her arms thrown around his shoulders in a tight embrace. “What are you doing here? You were advised to rest.” When she drew back she could see just how ill he was, sweat sheening his brow and his eyelids heavy from the exertion he was putting on himself.

Harry placed his hands on his student’s shoulders and smiled weakly, remembering the little girl he’d coached for the past ten years and looking upon the woman she’d become. “I wanted to see you skate one last time, at least as your coach.”

“What do you mean ‘one last time’?” Rosa narrowed her eyebrows and shook her head, refusing to accept that the worst was going to happen; she wouldn’t allow it.

“I got my results back from the hospital and I have aplastic anaemia. It’s made me quite ill, and it also means that I won’t be able to coach you anymore.” Harry watched as Rosa put her hands over her mouth in shock, her eyes lined with tears and the devastation plain to see, but over her shoulder he noticed the two retiring skaters exchange a glance, Logan nodding and Freddie getting to his feet.

“I don’t want you to go,” Rosa sobbed quietly, the impact of the news hitting her like a ton of bricks. Harry had been with her since she was twelve years old, coaching her, encouraging her, ensuring that she was looked after. He was family to her, and it would be difficult letting him go.

“I know, little rose,” he said gently, wiping away her tears and not wanting her to be upset after such a riveting performance, “but I’m ill.”

Freddie approached them and put his hand around his younger cousin’s shoulders, running it down her arm in support. “Don’t fear, Rosie. Logan and I will take over from where Harry has left off.”

A breath hitched in Rosa’s throat and she turned to face him, her eyes wide and a shocked expression slipping across her features. “Really?” she squeaked, watching as Freddie nodded in response. Unable to contain herself, she leapt up and wrapped her arms around him, letting him spin her around a few times before carefully placing her back down on the ground. Once she was on her feet again, she glanced back over to Harry. “You will come and watch me skate though, won’t you?”

Harry patted her shoulder and gave her a firm, determined nod. He may have been ill, he may have to get used to a lot of new changes, but his support for the little Englishwoman would never change; since he had no children of his own, she was the closest thing he had, and he would not let something so precious simply slip away from him. “Just you try and stop me.”

Rosa let out a small chuckle and swallowed down the lump in her throat, reminding herself that no matter what, Harry would always be there for her, following the rest of her career until she retired and supporting her as he had over the past decade. “I can’t thank you enough for everything that you’ve done,” she said sincerely, bowing her head to him. “I wouldn’t have gotten where I am today without you.”

“Seeing you smile is thanks enough,” Harry assured her, his eyes lifting as Cecelia tentatively made her way towards them. “I should thank you, Miss Losco. Rosa told me you helped me when I collapsed.”

“I’m just glad to see you’re all right,” Cecelia replied, modestly waving the comment away and turning to Rosa. “Can I speak to you?” she asked politely, getting an understanding nod from the other three before they moved back to the bench to give them some privacy.

Once they were gone, Cecelia wrapped her arms around Rosa in a hug of gratitude and thanks. It took the smaller woman a few moments to react, but she eventually put her hands on her back when her mind caught up with what was happening. “You did so well out there,” the Italian said proudly as she drew back. “And thank you.”

“For what?” Rosa asked, narrowing her eyebrows in confusion.

“For being my friend when nobody else would be. For cheering me on from the sidelines. For encouraging me to get this.” She tapped the silver medal around her neck with her nail, beaming with joy. “I’ve never had that before.”

Rosa put her hand on Cecelia’s arm and smiled. “That was all you, Cecelia,” she assured her. “You trusted me enough to tell me why you said what you’d said, you held out that branch. It was your bravery that led to this, so be proud, and never forget that no matter what, you can always count on me.”

 

* * *

 

“Will you be staying long enough for the wedding?” Victor inquired, tilting his head as he glanced at his brother and ignoring the bustle around him as the press took photos of the other skaters.

Dmitry shifted from foot to foot before he gave his older sibling his attention, nodding and smiling optimistically. “Yes, I am. I’m back now and I’m not planning on leaving again.”

“So what are you going to do? You could always return to skating. You were very good at it.” Victor hoped that he would stick with it in some form, knowing how much he’d enjoyed it growing up and how it had made him stronger. He didn’t want him leaving something so precious behind.

“I never won a medal, I never won anything really, but I know what I’m doing, so I’m going to teach the next generation of skaters,” Dmitry replied, having thought on his career in the past few months, and not wanting to leave the sport completely he’d decided to teach. It would enable him to keep skating, bring in new talent, and inspire the next generation to keep it going.

Victor nodded and leant his hip against the wall with a grin. “You always were patient.” He glanced out of the corner of his eyes, watching as his brother looked down modestly and scuffled the tip of his shoe against the floor. “About the wedding,” he said, putting his arms behind his back and swaying back on his heels, “there’s something I want to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“Will you be my best man?”

Dmitry’s gaze shot up, his wide eyes locking onto his brother’s smile and the contented expression slipping across his features. “I thought you’d asked Chris.”

“I have,” Victor confirmed, “and he agreed, but I want you standing there with me too. You’re my brother, you should be up there with me.”

The younger Nikiforov let out a short, joyous laugh and embraced his brother; he’d never felt happier in his life. “Of course I will. It will be an honour.”

Victor beamed and clapped his shoulder in gratitude, letting out a short breath and finding the courage to speak again. What he had to tell him next wasn’t so optimistic, but he’d made a promise, a promise that he was determined to keep, and no matter how protective he felt, Dmitry deserved to know. “There’s something else I need to tell you,” he said, his upbeat tone beginning to dim.

“What is it?” Dmitry questioned. “Victor?”

“I was a little late to Yuri’s performance because I was on the phone to father. I was sick and tired of him calling me, and so I finally answered the call and spoke to him.”

Dmitry didn’t know what to make of it at first, his heart pounding and his thoughts scattering, but Victor didn’t seem upset or defeated, or downtrodden to the point of silence; if anything, he appeared strong and determined, standing to his full height and keeping his gaze fixed on him. “What did you say to him? What did _he_ say to you? He didn’t yell, did he?”

“He yelled a bit,” Victor told him truthfully, “but I told him that so long as he was intent on being verbally abusive towards us, we would have nothing to do with him.”

“And he just took it?” Dmitry squeaked; he couldn’t imagine their father taking kindly to such an act of solidarity, especially not since he was already so disappointed in them.

“He didn’t like it, but there is very little he can do.” Victor swallowed hard and exhaled heavily. Despite the guilt gnawing at him for what he’d said to his father, he felt stronger for doing it, for standing up to him and not letting him get away with his insistent verbal abuse of himself and his brother. If that was what his father wanted to do, he would do so alone. “I asked after mother too, but she wasn’t there.”

“What? What do you mean she wasn’t there? Where was she?”

“Don’t worry, Dimka,” the older brother said calmly, seeing how panicked he was becoming. “She wasn’t there because she’s left him.”

Dmitry’s hands shot to his mouth, his eyes wide and his expression one of shock and disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was hearing. He knew that his parents’ relationship had broken down since their mother had discovered that their father was being verbally abusive towards them, her disdain of it made clear and her support of her sons never wavering, but he’d always assumed that she was too frightened to leave him.

“I called her after I’d spoken to father,” Victor continued, “and she told me that she’d left him. She also told me that she was sorry, and that she will speak to you as soon as she can.”

“What does she have to be sorry for?” Dmitry asked, shaking his head.

“She feels guilty for not seeing what was happening sooner.”

“But father made sure that he never yelled at us in front of her and scared us so much that we were too frightened to tell her,” Dmitry breathed, the fact that his mother felt guilty for what had happened to them breaking his heart. “She didn’t know.”

“I know,” Victor sighed, “but she still blames herself. She said that staying with father felt like a punishment to her, for not noticing.”

Dmitry had to swallow down the lump in his throat and breathe steadily to stop himself from sobbing, the news hitting him hard and devastating him to the point of tears. He’d never known how his mother had felt, she’d always been so quiet, and even when he’d called her during his time in Amsterdam, she’d always focused on him, never taking a second to speak about herself when she could hear about her son instead. He’d never thought about how she’d felt, how it must have torn her apart, how she’d blamed herself and punished herself for it; he’d been too busy with his own grief.

“Don’t cry, Dimka,” Victor said softly, embracing his brother and comforting him. “She said that she has her true family back and that she will look after us.” He drew back, offering him a reassuring smile and wiping his tears away with his thumb. “This is a positive step forwards for the three of us.”

“It is.” Dmitry exhaled heavily and rubbed his eyes, blinking away the last of the tears and determined to focus on the bright future ahead of him. “It will be our new beginning.”

 

* * *

 

Every surface in the cathedral’s garden was covered in a blanket of snow, the outside of the magnificent building smattered with glittering white. The trees had been decorated with fairy lights and lanterns, each of the white-painted chairs was adorned with an icy blue ribbon, and the wedding arch at the other end of the red aisle was covered in white and pale blue flowers.

“Nervous?” Dmitry whispered to his brother as the wedding guests began to take the seats, the proceedings about to start in a mere matter of minutes. He spotted his mother on the front row and gave her a quick wave, the gesture returned with a proud smile, a tissue already in her hands.

“A little,” Victor admitted, unable to shift the grin on his lips, “but after today I will be Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov, a married man. It’s worth the nerves.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how sweet little Yuri feels,” Chris added, his hands behind his back as the last of the guests took their seats and settled themselves down to watch the ceremony.

“He’ll feel a lot better when he sees Victor,” Dmitry chuckled lightly, the other groom’s procession beginning to make their way down the aisle. “Here we go. Good luck.”

First came the Nishigori triplets, skipping down the aisle and throwing cherry blossom onto the red carpet, followed by Minako, Yuuko, Mari, Mila, Rosa, Nina and Cecelia, all dressed in powder blue finery. Following them was Minami, Georgi, Yurio and Phichit in matching suits. Makkachin made his way down the red walkway, padding towards his owner, and after a momentary lull in the procession, Yuri appeared at the other end of the aisle, his mother and his father by his side.

“We’re so proud of you, Yuri,” his mother whispered as they began their slow walk towards the wedding arch, patting his back and smiling up at her beloved son. She could see that he was nervous, his eyes unblinking and the flowers in his hands shaking slightly, but the glittering gleam of love and cherishment painted on his lips assured her that he was going to be all right.

Once they’d reached the end of the aisle, Yuri gave his flowers to Mira, embracing his father and kissing his mother’s cheek. “Thank you,” he said earnestly to his family, “for everything you’ve done for me.” They each gave him a proud, teary smile, and with a deep breath he turned to his fiancé, taking hold of his hand and looking up into his adoring eyes.

“When we walk back down that aisle, we’ll be married,” Victor whispered to him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Just how it should be,” Yuri breathed, turning to the officiant as they took their first step into married life.


End file.
